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by linzclair219



Series: The Song of Sonny and Rafael [4]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Case Fic, Characters as well, Christmas, Christmas Party, Crossroads, Depression, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, New Year's Eve, New guy - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scandal, Therapy, Trials, Wakes & Funerals, before I go back and fix the first part, buckle up guys, for multiple characters, last story in this series, you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-12-08 09:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 60,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11643267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linzclair219/pseuds/linzclair219
Summary: Sonny needs Rafael. Rafael needs Sonny.They know it to the cores of their very beings that they need each other.What happens when a tough case brings back some old friends and some new enemies? How will the couple handle the strain this case brings down on their relationship? And what happens when their team is put to the ultimate test?Set about two months after the end of Belong.Final part of this series.





	1. Detached Mourners

**Author's Note:**

> Wow guys, it's finally here!  
> Hold on tight, this one is going to be good.  
> I'm a bit annoyed with myself because I wrote most of the stuff that happens after the climax first, so now I have to go back and write the first half.  
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this new update. I'm glad to share it with you all,  
> Updates will be every other day for a while until I get a little more of a buffer.

_It’s too damn cold._

That’s what Rafael thinks as he stands on the road winding through the cemetery, bouncing from one foot to the other to try and stay warm. It’s only the third day of September, it’s been hot and sunny for weeks. This, of all days, of course is the first one where the mercury dips to fifty. Rafael keeps squeezing his hands in his coat pockets, trying to keep his fingers from going numb. He had no idea he would need gloves today.

“You okay?” Tommy asks. He’s sat on the bench next to where Rafael can’t stop moving, holding his sleeping daughter.

“Just cold.” He replies. His breath causes a fog in the freeze. His eyes flick over to the people a ways off from the two of them.

He finds Sonny easily, holding onto his youngest sister. Both their pale faces are red and tear stained, and the cold isn’t doing them any favors. His gaze shifts to find the other two sisters, who are sharing their own embrace next to the casket, with ruined tissues in their grasps.

Rafael feels around in his pocket before his hand closes around the laminated funeral card for Gino Cognotelli, the brother of Sonny’s long deceased Nana. Though, from what he’s heard, Rafael gets the impression that he was around just as much as she was.

His keeps looking, picking out the man’s family- two sons, one daughter, all with children of their own. He also picks out Dominick’s two sisters, though he can’t remember either of their names. The day has been a haze of names and faces and weeping.

He finds his in laws again, picking out Valerie who’s made her way over to her two middle daughters. Rafael thinks he’ll find Dominick in the same position with his other two children, but no, they’re still holding each other.

Instead, he finds Dominick stood off to the side with a son of the deceased. The one that gave the eulogy. Raymond, maybe.

Whatever his name, Dominick is right up in his face. Maybe Raymond puts a hand on his chest to try and push him away, but Dominick smacks it away. He’s talking. His face is turning even redder than it already was. Raymond says something else and holds up his hands. Dominick turns away, and uses his whole arm to wave the other man off.

Rafael watches as Dominick gathers up his family, then makes his way to the three of them.

“We’re leaving.” He says decisively.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Bella asks, and rests a hand on her father’s shoulder.

“We’re not invited to the repast, that’s what’s going on. They don’t want us here? That’s just fucking fine, we don’t need to be here.

Tommy puts a hand over his daughter’s ear, the one that’s not resting against his shoulder. The rest of the family exclaims in shock. Rafael stays quiet.

“Y’know what?” Valerie speaks up after wiping her nose. “Screw them. But we need to eat something.”

“Yeah dad, please?” Gina puts in. “I’m starved. None of us have eaten.”

There’s a quick hubbub among them about where to get food before settling on a place called DeLuna, and everyone moves to get into the cars they came in. The girls and Tommy pile into Bella and Tommy’s SUV. Rafael and Sonny get in the back of the Carisi parents’ car. The silence in the car hangs there, heavy in the air, filling the space.

Sonny reaches over and finds his husband’s hand, before his other hand sandwiches around it. When Sonny looks up from the back of the driver’s seat, he catches his father’s eye in the rearview mirror. Just for a second. Just long enough for Dominick to see the pain in his son’s gaze.

Sonny doesn’t linger. Instead he leans his head on Rafael’s shoulder and closes his eyes for the fifteen minute drive to the restaurant. It’s just long enough that he can feel himself falling asleep when the car parks. The engine shutting off makes Sonny sigh before he gets himself out.

From what Rafael can tell, the restaurant they’re in is the kind of place open for lunch but really makes its money from dinner sales. Nobody else is in the restaurant, and it makes getting a table for nine easy. It’s one of those big, round tables. Even sick from grief, the family empties the bread baskets on either half of the table before looking at the menu.

Nobody’s paying attention. Even when the stories about Gino start, nobody hears an entire tale from beginning to end. Veronica is the only one showing any spirit and that’s only because of how awake she is post-nap. Tommy’s in charge of wrangling her, but when she comes over to Sonny and asks to sit in his lap, he doesn’t turn her away. He lets an arm rest around her while the unheard stories continue to be told. By the time their first course arrives, the stories have grown to include the ones that prominently feature Nana.

The same Nana that gave Sonny his first cigarette when he was 14, because both her and her newly deceased brother were chain smokers from teenhood on. The same Nana that always made the effort to go to the bank and take out cash for their birthdays and Christmas. Nana, who they all figure out gave each of the kids two grand when they started college.

While the family rambles about Nana, Dominick’s eye is drawn to Rafael, who’s wearing a blank stare.

Tommy, sat next to them, sees when Sonny takes Rafael’s hand and puts it on his own thigh, pressing it into the skin. Rafael’s thumb moves, gently stroking over his pant leg, but his gaze is still gone.

They don’t know Rafael the way Sonny does. They don’t know that, underneath that blank stare, Rafael is reliving his abuelita’s death in vivid detail. He’s reliving her funeral. He’s there in that night, before her burial when he came to pieces. And he’s in the night after the burial, when he had a fit of hysterical sobbing in the shower, hoping the water would cover his cries.

Sonny remembers that plan not working. He remembers going into the shower with Rafael and holding the older man until he’d cried himself out. It had freaked Sonny out, because there was no way to make the sobs stop. Once the floodgates were opened, nothing could close them except the water running dry.  

When their soup bowls get taken away, Veronica is so amped up that she needs some air. Tommy gets up to take her, and Sonny goes with.

“That’s okay?” He asks Rafael gently. The older man nods, still looking at the wall across from him.

“Go. Breathe. I’m okay.”

Sonny presses his lips to Rafael’s temple before he takes his coat and walks outside with his brother in law, while watching Veronica walk up and down the piece of sidewalk in front of the establishment.

“So, what was that about with Rafael? Is he okay?” Tommy asks with his usual lack of tact.

Sonny shrugs. “Fine. Just sad.”

Tommy waits. Sonny notices.

“He just started thinkin’ about his abuelita, and he felt sad. He was real close to her. It’s a long story.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, but it’s not mine to tell so don’t ask.”

Tommy backs off for a minute. “Can I ask him?”

“Sure you can, but you shouldn’t. It’s personal and he has a hard time talking about things. Don’t push him.”

Tommy shuts his mouth, knowing not to screw with this rare, defensive Sonny. Instead, they watch Veronica until she comes back over to them, and holds her arms out to be picked up once again. This time Sonny takes her, and carries her back inside.

She’s still mellowed, somewhat, when their main course comes. The family keeps talking while their food is slowly eaten.

It’s quiet. When they’re not speaking, they can hear the sounds coming from the kitchen, though it’s clear on the other side of the room they’re in.

A clatter of dishes hitting the ground make both Rafael and Sonny flinch, the former so hard that he drops his fork on his plate and the latter with such intensity that he snaps his neck looking for the source of the noise. There’s a few deep, centering breaths before either of them can look at anyone again. 

Sonny looks at Rafael first. The blue in his eyes are nearly gone, but his breathing is normalized. 

“You okay?” He asks under his breath.

“Yeah, Yeah I’m okay.” Rafael says with a few quick nods, though he can still feel his heart smashing against his ribs. Sonny reaches down and places his hand over the one Rafael has resting on his leg. He gives it a good squeeze before letting go. 

The rest of the family is trying very hard not to look at them. Even Veronica, who’s barely sat still this whole meal, is quietly looking around at the grownups of the table. Slowly, forks start scraping against plates and drinks are sipped at. It takes the two of them a little longer to return to eating, now with even less gusto than before. When it’s clear Sonny is more interested in pushing around his chicken than actually eating it, Dominick speaks up. 

“Hey son.” 

Sonny looks up, meeting his father’s eye. 

“Are you…uh…you know…” he points downward “you know, right now?” 

Sonny’s eyebrows push together, the eyes underneath them showing confusion. 

“You know…” his voice lowers even further. “Are you carrying?” 

“All the time dad.” He nods along with his response. Dominick mirrors his nods, but he keeps his mouth shut. “I mean…you know…it’s not the same, as before. I got the old one back and I couldn’t look at it anymore. But yeah, I still do. You never know.” 

Rafael looks down at his plate. A chill passes over his skin. _I’m sorry he doesn’t know. I’m sorry he has to worry._

“No…I guess you don’t…” Dominick’s eye just grazes Rafael before he goes back to eating, letting the silence fill the space around them, since the anecdotes have run dry. Everyone is exhausted. Everyone needs some sleep.

Still, they eat dessert, because it’s days like this where satisfying a sweet tooth is important. Conversation bubbles here and there, but never comes to fruition. When the check is dropped on their table, Rafael snaps it up.

“Hey, c’mon Rafael, what’re you doing?” Dominick asks. “Give me that.”

“Don’t worry about it, really.” Rafael sets the leather holder down next to his plate so he can grab his wallet, but Dominick reaches for it again. Rafael has to pick the thing up, holding it away from the table.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t need to do that.”

“I know I don’t _have_ to, I want to. Please.”

“No, really, I insist, I don’t want you guys spending that kind of money.”

“Well it’s my fault you’re not with the rest of your family. Please, let me.”

The rest of the family stares. Dominick is undeterred.

“Ah, come on-“

“Dad, stop, okay?” Sonny cuts in. “Just let him. Let someone do something nice.”

Dominick relents, and holds his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Thank you for that, very much.”

“It’s not a big deal at all, we can handle it.” Rafael answers and opens his wallet. When he pulls out a pair of hundred dollar bills, something else is pulled out with them. Something that clatters to the floor.

“I’ll get it.” Tommy offers and slides his chair back, leaning down to get them.

He picks up two cards like the ones they all just got at the funeral. On one there’s a man in a full police uniform. On the other, a black and white photo of a woman sat on a bench somewhere.

“Here you go.” Tommy says, handing them back to Rafael.

“Thanks, Tommy.” He takes them and slips them back into his wallet, which gets folded back up and put away.

Dominick opens the check holder, and represses a sigh at the hundred and eighty dollar tab. He takes thirty dollars out of his own wallet and leaves it as a tip, though he catches his son glaring at him for it.

“The waitress was good. Why not give her a nice tip?”

“We’re not tight on money, dad. Don’t worry. Rafe just got a bonus at work and I’ve been putting in a lot of OT.”

“Yeah, well you’ve-“

“Ah, I didn’t mean to bring this up again. Just, don’t worry about it.” Sonny waves his father off while the rest of the family pulls on their coats. The two men follow suit, and head outside. Valerie takes her granddaughter to the car while the Irish twins and Dominick sit on the benches outside the restaurant to smoke. Sonny rejects the one that is offered to him, though he would have taken it if Rafael wasn’t there with him.

Tommy stands next to where Bella’s sat, since she relents and takes a cigarette from her dad. The air outside isn’t warm, but it’s still enough that the sun’s rays can get to warming them.

Again, Rafael is taken away mentally, this time by memories of his father. The smoke coming from the cigarettes carry with them so many years of time spent in his childhood home. He can practically hear the one record his father played when he came home, always accompanied by the smell of a handful of consecutively smoked Kools The smell permeated through the entire house, even reaching past Rafael’s closed bedroom door.

Sonny’s hand on his back is a mild anchor. Reality comes back into full focus when his phone buzzes against his hip. He doesn’t jump, but the leg underneath the pocket, where the device is sat, twitches at the sudden feeling. It’s been buzzing all day, but mostly with texts and emails. This buzzing keeps going, again and again.

He fishes the thing out of his pocket, then sighs when he sees who it is.

“Barba.” He answers in his professional voice. The rest of the family listens in, though they don’t look over at him. Sonny looks over at Rafael, meeting his eye.

“Rita?” He murmurs. Rafael nods and puts his hand over the microphone.

“She’s being slammed with a third motion to suppress. I told her this would be a bitch of- No, yes, I’m still here Rita.” He says into his phone.

Sonny looks down at his hands, listening to what he can hear of both ends of the conversation.

“Have you tried- I’m sorry, did the middle of my sentence interrupt the beginning of yours?...Right. Anyway, did you put in for a continuance…What did the detective you’re dealing with say?...Oh…oh that’s not…”

“What about a Sandoval hearing?” Sonny puts in, and Barba’s face relaxes, like he’s thinking it over, before he tries to talk again.

“Rita…Rita-Rita, did you call me to talk to me or hear yourself talk?” He waits a beat. “What about a Sandoval hearing?”

Tommy and Bella openly stare, since they’re the closest. It’s surprising to Bella to hear her brother the cop give legal advice to someone who’s undeniably a lawyer.

“Okay Rita…well don’t thank me, thank Carisi…” He nods and holds the phone out to him. Sonny takes it.

“Hey Rita…yeah, no problem, just trying to help…have you missed prosecuting?” he waits another moment, staring up at the underside of the awning they’re sat beneath.

“Yeah, well, not as easy as victim blaming the problem away, is it?” A moment later and he laughs. “Yeah, okay…alright Rita…yeah, you too. Did you wanna talk to Barba again?”

Another pause. “Okay. Seeya then.” He pulls the phone away and hangs up, then hands it back to Rafael.

“Does it ever get weird, calling each other by your last names?” Tommy asks. “Y’know, since you guys are married now.”

The couple exchange a look, then Sonny shrugs. “Not really. We thought about hyphenating, but professionally it’s just easier to leave it be.”

“What about when you have kids?” Bella asks.

“We’ll probably just split the difference on our names, and give ‘em something all their own. Like Carba or Barisi.” Sonny answers.

“Carba sounds like a very Italian last name.” Rafael says.

“Well if our kid is white then we know what name to give ‘em.” Sonny jokes. Bella blinks and looks at her brother.

“If? What do you mean ‘if’? You guys are both white.”

“Bells, did you miss that day in biology or somethin’?”

“You know what I mean. If you do the thing with another woman being mom.”

“Well if we do do the invitro thing our best option for eggs might not be a white woman. And if we adopt, man, who knows?”

“Is that not something you’re thinking about?”

“Not really.” Rafael answers, leaning into Sonny a bit more. “In a year or two. When things are more stable.”

Sonny rubs his back. Bella trades a quick look with Tommy, and Gina and Teresa do the same, but nobody dares ask. Like the rest of the day’s conversations, the flow of words dries up.

When the cigarettes are stubbed out, a lot of hugs are exchanged between the groups that are parting. Sonny hugs all of his sisters tight, one after the other. Rafael lets himself be hugged, for their sake.

“You’ll keep an eye on him, right?” Teresa asks when she lets go of him. Rafael nods.

“Always.”

“Remind him to text me later. He said he would but, you know.” She shrugs. Rafael nods, knowing that he’s liable to forget in his current state.

It’s quiet in the car again. The two cars part ways so the girls can go back to their parents’ house, while their parents drive Sonny and Rafael to the ferry.

Valerie doesn’t bother asking if they want to come back to the house. She can see it, in her son’s face especially, how they need to be home. She watches the way the older man curls into her son, and the way her son’s lanky arm wraps around him.

A week ago, Sonny’s hair would’ve tickled Rafael’s face where it is now. Today he just breathes in the scent of hairspray, which easily holds his hair in place, though not as harshly as the gel used to.

They’re statues, each one pressed against the other until they get to the ferry. There’s a few low goodbyes, some cheek pecking, and then they’re walking off together. Before the couple disappears from sight, Dominick notices the way they each put an arm around the other.

 _Don’t tell me they’re not welcome. Don’t fucking tell me there’s something wrong with them._ Dominick yells internally at his cousin, and at himself.

****

Before Sonny can be free of his day, he goes around their apartment and double checks the locks on the windows. He touches the lock on their front door too, just to be sure. Only then can he get out of his suit and into his shower. And from there, into a pair of sweatpants and his favorite sweatshirt.

Rafael is sat in the living room under a blanket, the TV playing even though he’s facing the back of the couch. Sonny comes over, picking up his husband’s feet so he can sit with them in his lap. After a moment, Sonny reaches over and taps his husband’s hip, making him look up.

“Hi.” He murmurs.

“Hi.” Sonny says back, his hands folding over Rafael’s ankles.

“How’re you holding up?” Rafael asks. Sonny shrugs.

“Just a little blue. You know, I didn’t really see Gino a whole lot the last few years. Maybe…like…twice.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t see your family more.” Rafael says after a moment. Sonny sighs.

“Don’t do that. Please? I saw them plenty, just not that side so much. Had nothing to do with you.”

Rafael sits up and looks at Sonny, who’s not really looking at him now. After a few moments of silence he does, but it’s only for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“You didn’t yell… and I know you didn’t mean that.” Rafael reaches over and squeezes Carisi’s shoulder. “But you can talk to me.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

Rafael’s quiet. After a moment, Sonny speaks again.

“But thanks.”

It’s the last real words Rafael gets out of him for the day. Their home is quiet, save for the sounds of the TV in the background. The only words that get thrown out are in short sentences, like Rafael’s “text your sister” and Sonny’s “I’m ordering pizza.”

There’s nothing to say and everything to think. Rafael knows that. Rafael’s familiar with falling prey to one’s own thoughts. He misses Sonny, though. He misses the usual amount of touching that he gets from his husband, who’s off in his own world for the afternoon. He’s there in their apartment, but he’s really not.

Before getting into bed, Rafael worries. He’s not sure what he’ll do if this distance keeps up into the night.

That worry disappears when the bare skin of Sonny’s arms wrap around his shoulders, and pull him close. He moves in, allowing his face to rest on the skin over his beating chest.

“Where’ve you been?” Rafael asks, his hand resting over Carisi’s side, drinking in the feel of their bodies pressed together again. He feels the slight shrug that is Sonny’s reply.

“Just thinking. About death. You know.”

Rafael waits.

“Kinda got to me though. You know, thinking about the two deaths I’m responsible. Fucked me up pretty good.” Sonny’s voice raises, too loud for the darkness surrounding them. “And I know, I know you don’t think I’m responsible for the guy Bobby killed but I do. I feel it and I don’t want to hear about it.”

The hand on his side moves, spreading its warmth over the patch of skin it covers. His voice comes out it’s normal nighttime volume when he speaks again.

“Thinking that I caused someone’s death fucks me up. To think that I initiated all this pain for someone else’s family, god, I just…the guilt.”

The hand on his side moves to rest on the bare half of his chest, evening out the warmth that Rafael’s cheek leaves against him. His chest raises extra high before he lets the breath out in a sigh.

“But…you know…then I think more about you. About how that guy was going to _kill_ you, if I hadn’t killed him first. He was there to end your life, and there was nothing else I could do.”

Sonny rests a hand on the back of Rafael’s head, letting his damp tufts stick to his palm.

“Do you understand, Rafe? Do I sound like a nut job or do you understand?”

“I do. I don’t, but I do.”

Sonny’s quiet is full of question. He feels Rafael’s neck fluctuate against his chest when he swallows, and the hand against his chest being removed. It reaches back around to guide the thumb of the hand resting on Rafael’s scalp. He thinks it odd, and then a shock hits his brain, waking him up completely. His thumb presses against a short but still noticeable scar hidden underneath his hair.

“My 19th birthday. My dad…he started pushing us around. Pushed me so hard I fell back into my mother’s china cabinet. That’s when I lost it. I…I didn’t stop until my mother pulled me off of him.”

Sonny’s nauseous at the thought.

“Because he wasn’t moving. He passed out. I shattered his nose, cracked his collarbone, gave him a concussion, but I thought he was…you know…”

Sonny squeezes him tight, as if he could protect him from that memory.

“But I guess it’s not the same. I wouldn’t have been so torn up about it.”

Sonny stays quiet, scared of what to say next. The last thing he wants to do is shatter Rafael with the delicate headspace he’s in now. So he just holds the older man, letting them feel close again for the first time all day.

“I’m sorry.” Rafael murmurs against his skin. “I made your moment about me again.”

“It’s okay.” Sonny whispers, and practically strains his neck to kiss Rafael’s forehead. The older man closes his eyes, and presses even further against his husband’s bare body.

“I love you. So much.” Rafael presses a kiss to his neck. “Te amo, mi héroe. Te amo mucho.”

“I love you too Rafe. I love you so so much.” He buries his face in the top of his husband’s wet hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

They lay there, the darkness swaddling them as they hold each other together.  


	2. Inconceivable Disclosure

4:22. That’s what time Sonny wakes up.

Today the cause isn’t a nightmare (his or his husband’s) or a fit of anxiety (again his or his husband’s) or even from an errant odd noise.

It’s also not because of his alarm, which is set for six, a reasonable time for a person to sleep until. No, today’s culprit is Sonny’s ringing cellphone. The first round of trills breaks his sleep enough that he hears the second go. He has to scramble to find his non-sleeping arm and pick it up, though he can’t see the screen when he does.

“Hello?” He says past a yawn.

“Carisi? It’s Rollins. You okay?”

“I’m sleeping, Rollins. What’s going on?”

“Caught a case. I couldn’t wake up Fin and I was hoping to wait on calling Liv, just until we know what’s up.”

“Where are you?”

“Right now? Grabbing a coffee at Starbucks. I’ll get you one too. But I’m headed to Mercy General hospital. I’ll wait there. This girl doesn’t know we’ve been called, and the SANE nurse told me she was pretty spooked.”

Only half of her words sink into his still waking brain. “Okay…okay…I’ll meet you there.”

“Alright, seeya then.” Rollins says, and hangs up. The light his phone gives off is enough to keep him awake, though he wishes he wasn’t. He wishes he’d let himself sleep through the noise and give himself a little more time with his husband before they had to part ways.

Now, Sonny has to maneuver himself out from under Rafael’s weight without waking him. Even though he knows Rafael sleeps like the dead, he’s sure he could wake up from that. But that doesn’t wake him. Neither does the sliding of hangers inside their closet, or the water of their sink running in the bathroom. When Sonny’s dressed and ready, he comes out to say goodbye to Rafael.

Before Sonny shuts off the bathroom light, he sees Rafael has his face buried in Sonny’s pillow.

He’s plunged into darkness, but the walk to their bed is short and obstacle free. He leans down, bringing his mouth close to his husband’s ear.

“Rafe…Rafe, it’s just me, Sonny. Rafe…Rafe…wake up.”

The older man hums and presses his head further into the pillow.

“Rafe, I’m leaving.”

“Hmm?” that wakes him up, makes one of his eyes open.

“Rafe, I’m leaving. I got called into work. I’ll let you know what’s up as soon as I can.”

“Y’r leaving?” He mumbles. Sonny touches his face, gently, just enough to maybe wake him.

“Yeah babe, I’m leaving. But I’ll call when we have something. Who knows, this might be-“

He’s cut off by an arm slinging around his shoulder and pulling him in for a kiss. A real kiss. A long, desperate kiss, begging Sonny to stay.

“Te amo, mi héroe.” Rafael mumbles when their mouths pull apart. His lips tingle from the balm on Sonny’s mouth.

“I love you too, Rafe. I’ll see you soon.”

One more peck, and then he’s gone. Rafael buries his head into his husband’s pillow, but there’s no hope of sleep now. Now his own brain is worried about the possibility of having to pick up another phone call.

****

The coffee Amanda hands him is tepid, but that doesn’t stop Carisi from chugging half of it before she can get a word in.

“You okay?” She asks when he looks at her.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Yesterday was rough but I’m here now. What do we know?”

“Victim is Johanna Tomkin, 33, African American. She was found behind a dumpster by a few homeless. Had her wallet in her skirt pocket, still full of cash.”

“So not a robbery.”

“Not a robbery but definitely a rape. Trauma to her labia, as well as severe bruising on her chest. Whoever did this to her beat her up pretty good everywhere.”

“Doesn’t match any open M.O.s. She say anything yet?”

“She didn’t disclose to the nurse. She’s real messed up.”

“That’s why they call us.” He drains his cup before chucking it. “Let’s do this.”

Rollins leads the way to the room where the nurse told her they were keeping the victim. She knocks first. A timid voice answers “Come in.”

They open the door slowly. A hot zap of indignation shoots through Carisi looking at the woman before them. Her eye is black, her cheek is swollen, and there’s plenty of bruises just on the skin he can see. He makes sure to keep his sympathetic face on, not showing his anger while Amanda does their introductions. The second she says ‘We’re detectives” the young woman shakes her head.

“No, no, n-no I didn’t call the police. Who called the police? I didn’t ask for police.”

“It’s okay Ms. Tomkin.” Sonny offers. “Someone hurt you very badly, we just need to know who so they don’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

Her lip quivers, and she presses back against the exam table. “Please…please, you don’t know what you’re doing. Y-You don’t have a clue…please, leave me alone.”

“Woah, hey it’s okay.” Sonny tries, edging closer. “Look, we don’t need to talk about who. Not yet. Let’s just talk about what happened to you. Can you do that?”

Her lip stills.

“I…I guess…”

“Okay, that’s okay.” Amanda confirms. Sonny takes a seat on the doctor’s chair, making himself look smaller.

“I…I was in my office. I was working. Late. Again. And…”she takes a few shuddering breaths, looking between the two detectives. Both of their faces are filled with care.

“The two of them…the two of them…th-they came in…and they-“ She breaks off into sobs. Sonny plucks a few sandpaper tissues from the generic box on the counter and hands them to her. She presses them to her face, soaking up her tears, still crying when she speaks.

“I-It was the back…of a car…”

“A car?” Rollins asks. And she nods, her face pinched shut.

“T-They took…turns…” She sniffles.

“The car…Johanna, do you remember what color it was?”

She balls her tissues up in her fist. “Um…black.”

“Okay honey” Rollins soothes “and do you know what kind of car it was? A sedan? An SUV?”

She breaks off crying once again, and kneads her hands into her eyes. “Please, please don’t do this. Please, please, you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“We don’t.” Sonny speaks. She looks at him, tears streaming down her face. “We’ll believe you. No matter what. But, for now, can you tell us what happened next?”

She wipes her hands over her face, smudging what’s left of her mascara, and looks down at the floor instead of at either of them.

“I…I don’t know…I just woke up here.”

“Can you tell us where you work, sweetie?” Rollins tries again. “So we can go get your things?”

The woman hugs herself tight . “Oh god…oh god, please…please, you can’t do this. You can’t, you just _can’t._ You can’t do this.”

“Johanna, please.” Sonny gets up, and stands before her, though he keeps his head dipped. “We get that you’re scared, of course you are. Who wouldn’t be scared after the hell you’ve been through? But you need to tell us something. You need to tell us who did this to you. It’s the only we can make you safe again.”

She meets his face, her eyes barely open while her hands shake. Sonny, carefully, takes her hands in his own.

“Tell is Johanna, please. Who hurt you?”

“M…M…M-Mike.” She stutters out, her breath coming fast and shallow between her sobs.

“Okay, Mike.” Rollins murmurs. “Is Mike your boyfriend?”

She shakes her head, her frizzy hair bouncing around her face.

“Does Mike have a last name?” Sonny asks, squeezing her hands again. She looks between the two of them.

“P…P…” She mouths the word. Sonny’s not good at lip reading, but the way she begs for them to stop won’t be forgotten.

“P…P…Pence…” She manages out.

A hush falls over the room. The partners stop breathing. There’s ten solid seconds of nothing but this woman’s sobbing. She closes her eyes tight, as if she can hold back what has to follow.

“Mike Pence did this to you?” Amanda asks carefully. She nods, another shaky action.

“A-And….D-D…Don…Donald Trump…fuck, you must think I’m crazy!” She leans on Carisi’s shoulder and sobs next to his ear. He wraps his arms around her and holds her, letting her come to pieces.

“No, I don’t.” He tells her, just loud enough to be heard over her sobs.

****

Rafael’s brain is brought out of its sleeping haze by the sound of his alarm. He picks up his phone, expecting to see 6:15. Instead he sees 7:45, a time that makes him sit straight up in bed, though his aching head begs him not to.

He opens his phone and the alarm quiets. He takes in his home screen, and almost immediately sees his phone app has four notifications. When he opens it, his heart drops at the sight of them all being from Sonny. The last notification belongs to the voicemail Sonny left at 7:09. He presses play and brings it to his ear.

“Rafe…Rafe, please get up. We need help. This…oh fuck, this is bad. This is so fucking bad. And we know it’s bad because we’ve got evidence. Not all of it, we’re getting the rest, but what we have is pretty- fuck, just call me back. Please. This is bad, Rafe. I love you, call me back so I know you’re okay.”

Rafael sits there a moment, his brain frozen. His heart drops, wondering what this possibly could be. The way Sonny’s voice sounded, it makes him think something happened involving BX9. He takes a deep breath before calling his husband back, and he picks up on the first ring.

“Rafe, thank god.” He answers.

“Sonny…what happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, a nice short but well planned chapter.   
> Hope you all enjoyed this bombshell. I have this story nearly outlined and...let's just say, I'm really liking it, but I've liked all of these stories.   
> Very happy to hear your kind comments. Keep 'em coming! You know I love hearing from you guys!


	3. Unexpected Alliance

Barba’s phone is cursed. He’s sure of it when noon rolls around and all of the correspondence he’s received is from people he doesn’t want to hear from. He wants to hear from the five other prosecutors he put calls out to.

Or, he wants to hear from his detectives. Sonny assured Rafael that once they had all their evidence together, they’d call him down. At least that would give him something to do besides sifting through tedious emails about this or that or whatever.

“Are you sure this is real?” Rafael had asked.

“There’s a tape… it’s not of the crime, but it puts them all together.”

Rafael sighs and takes a sip of his coffee, his third one today. His stomach grumbles in protest.

 _One more email and then I’ll order lunch_ he promises himself, since he did skip breakfast and he’s already rejected lunch from Carmen once, in the hopes that he would be leaving the office soon. That was over an hour ago, and still no word.

He knows Sonny. He knows Liv, too. He knows between them, Fin, and Rollins, they’re going to go over everything with a fine tooth comb and bring him in when they have something to show for their work. His stomach turns over every time he thinks about what Sonny told him. He was shocked, but unsurprised. If it’s true, it’s not a stretch and it’s going to be hell to get through court.

Hell, if it even _gets_ to court.

Rafael stops in the middle of the email he’s looking at and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That’s not going to make it any smaller.” A female voice makes him jump, and his head snaps up. It’s Rita. _Of course it is, who else has the balls to talk to me like that?_

“Where’ve you been? Ignoring your phone?”

“Oh don’t take this so personal. You know you have a very bad habit of that.” She closes the door behind herself. “I had my phone off in court.”

“You got your hearing scheduled for before noon on a Monday?”

She shrugs. “Don’t ask, I won’t tell how I did it.”

“Like I want to know.” He sits back in his chair. She takes the one on the other side of his desk.

“Well? Are you going to tell me what this ‘sensitive case’ is? Or do I need to answer your calls in a timelier manner for that?”

He rubs his left temple, where it always throbs extra hard. “Donald Trump and Mike Pence raped a woman.”

Her eyebrows raise, and she sits up straighter in her chair, setting her briefcase in the seat beside her.

“Wow.”

“You’re so shocked?”

“No. The shocking part is you saying ‘Donald Trump and Mike Pence raped a woman’ instead of ‘A woman accused Donald Trump and Mike Pence of raping her.’”

He chews that over a moment, and leans his chin in his hand. “I suppose I should be more objective. But seriously, does that accusation surprise you?”

“Neither the accusation nor the possibility of it being true are surprising to me. But first we need to know who this woman is.”

“I’m sorry, do I hear Defense Attorney Rita talking? I didn’t call to have her help me on this case.”

“No, Prosecutor Rita showed up, don’t you worry. But before I go in guns blazing, why don’t you tell me about the evidence?”

“So far as I know, the woman was found behind a dumpster, left for dead. She made her outcry to Rollins and Sonny when they showed up, post rape kit.”

He meets her eye, and her eyebrows are pushed together. “You never call him Sonny at work.”

He rolls his eyes. “Anyway. Apparently, there’s video that puts the three of them together, but I haven’t seen it yet. They want to get as much evidence together as possible before they let me in on it.”

“Smart. Do they know you called for backup?”

“That part I kept to myself.”

“Will they be angry?”

“I doubt it. Liv will understand, if nobody else does. Carisi too. We need all the muscle we can put together for this since the DA put it on me.”

“Fair enough. How much muscle did you call up?”

“I left the same message to four other lawyers besides you. All ones I could trust.”

“You’re taking this seriously.”

“Like you wouldn’t? Besides, you should be happy. If you take this case on, it means you can hand off that mess you’re handling.”

“I don’t know it’s a mess anymore. Today was a big help. Does Carisi plan on actually using his law degree any time soon?”

“He uses it every day on the job.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I also know that I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten yet today.”

“You? Not eating? Well now that’s when we know we have to worry.”

“You’re okay with Chinese, right? Carmen mentioned it before, now it’s all my stomach can think about.”

“I’m fine if it keeps you talking.”

He calls out to her desk, and it’s only a few clipped sentences before he’s back talking again.

“So now we play the waiting game. I’m hoping sometime today they’ll call me. Sometime sooner rather than later. I’m going a little out of my mind waiting.”

There’s a knock at the door.

“Come in.” Rafael yells out. Carmen enters, a bag of takeout in hand.

“That was fast. What, did you have them teleport the food here?”

“You said you would want food later. It’s later, isn’t it?”

He chuckles and takes the bag from her. “Thanks Carmen. We’re okay for now.”

“Very well.” She leaves them alone again.

“She’s good. No wonder you like her.”

“Best assistant I’ve ever had. She deserves a raise.” He says, and starts unpacking the bag.

“Knowing you she probably deserves canonization, but a raise is a good start.” Rita picks up a pair of chopsticks. The savory food is a cushion for Rafael’s nerves, and it lets him start to talk rationally.

And Rita listens because, for all her ball breaking, she knows Rafael has a point.

“-and that’s if we even get to trial. The moment we get this before a grand jury- well, you know how people can be. Who’s going to-“

A knock cuts them off, followed immediately by the door opening.

“Well, I sure hope I’m not interrupting a party.” Kenneth O’Dwyer says as he waltzes in. Rita blinks hard, then looks at her friend.

“You called O’Dwyer?”

“I called people I could count on.” Rafael answers.

“Good to see you too, Rita. What’s with the food?”

“We’re having lunch and waiting for a phone call.” Rita answers. “What are you doing here?”

“I must say, having a mysterious message from Rafael Barba as the first thing on my desk is a great way to start the day.”

“Oh, so you did get my message? And you didn’t think to call?”

“You sound like one of my exes.” Kenneth jokes. “Besides, I wanted to hear about this ‘sensitive case’ for myself in person. Who knows, someone might be listening to us over the phone.”

Rafael sighs and puts his container of chicken and broccoli down. “Donald Trump and Mike Pence raped a woman, and left her for dead.”

There’s a few seconds of silence.

“Alright, I’m in.” O’Dwyer answers. “What do we know?”

“Well sit down, eat with us, we’re talking about that now.”

Ken complies and searches through the takeout boxes before finding one of lo mein.

“You know this case is going to be hell, right?” Rafael asks them both.

“Do you?” Ken retorts. “I mean, this is going to be worse that taking on DCS. And the Catholic Church. It’s going to be worse than the two of them combined.”

“I do know. Which is why I called reinforcements. Ones unafraid of career suicide.”

“In this town?” Rita asks. “I don’t think so.”

“It will be if we lose.” Rafael bites back, then goes back to his food.

“So, what’s with the magic phone call?” Ken asks.

“From SVU. You know, to show us all their goods.” Rita answers.

“What, you two agreed to this case without seeing a shred of evidence?” Ken asks between bites.

“So did you.” Rafael snipes. The other man thinks on that, then shrugs.

“Fair enough. This better be good though.”

“Who knows? Maybe this will turn out to be nothing.” Rafael says.

The other lawyers just give him a knowing look before going back to their food. Their food is long done by the time that fateful call comes in.

****

“Rita? Kenneth?” Olivia asks, since she’s the first one to see them. The other three detectives stand to attention, all wearing confused looks.

“Co-councils.” Rafael answers.

“You called backup.” Rollins states, looking between the two of them.

“Don’t look so surprised, detective. This case is going to be brutal, even with good evidence.” Rita says,

“Which I’m figuring you found.” Rafael finishes.

“First there’s this. Johanna Tomkin works for the financial firm that handles Jared Kushner’s money.” Fin starts off.

“So he’s going after his own now?” Rita asks.

“We’re not quite sure. We’re figuring maybe he’s hunting in places he’s ‘trusted’.” Rollins says. “But we do know that the rape kit tested positive for two assailants, who are both white and of European descent. Fits their profiles.”

“And probably half the men in New York City.” Ken says. “Please, as of now we’re looking at random man not excluded. Unless you can coerce the DNA out of them, there’s no way anyone is giving you a warrant for it. ”

“We may not need it.” Sonny says. “As strong as the forensic evidence is, this is even stronger.” Sonny hits a button on a tablet that starts playing security camera footage on the big screens. All of their faces twist at the sight of the two well known figures walking out the building’s back exit. Pence trails Trump, who has an arm locked around Johanna’s waist. She’s obviously fighting him off, and when she elbows his stomach it looks like she might get away.

But no, he manages to grab her and throws her into the back of the black limousine before getting in himself. And the white-haired man just stands there, arms crossed, his gaze flicking around.

“I’ve never seen so much arrogance in one video.” Ken mutters, his head shaking. “Don’t they know that buildings like this have security cameras?”

The footage keeps rolling, until the door is opened and the other man gets inside, only for them to be driven away.

“Oh like he cares?” Liv huffs. “And as good as that is, we have this footage too.”

She hits the tablet, and then there’s a still from the black and white elevator cameras on screen. There’s no question about the three people’s identities, since none of them try to hide their faces. Rafael rubs his temple.

“Please tell me there’s something else though. Something solider.” Rafael tries. He wants to crucify them both.

“Oh we do, Counselor.” Liv says, and holds her finger against the rewind button. It jumps back ten seconds at a time, which they can see by the time stamp. They’re silent as they watch in slow-motion reverse as Johanna is dragged into the elevator. What’s maybe five mintes before, someone else is backing in.

“Is that…?” Rafael asks, sitting up. He has to wait for him to turn a certain angle.

“Yup. Our old pal Johnny Dubcek.” Rollins answers.

“How do you know this guy?” Rita asks.

“I put him away for stabbing a man in the balls. Then helped him get early probation when his childhood molester was sent to the same prison.”

“Good lord.” Rita shakes her head. “Well, let’s go see if he gets chatty.”

“He won’t tell us anything.” Rollins supplies, and looks at Barba. “We were hoping that seeing you would convince him that this is important. Maybe seeing the cavalry will help too.”

“Or make him clam up.” Barba says. “But we can hope for the former. Let’s give it a try.”

Sonny nods and leads the way into the interrogation room, where the man in question is sat in a chair, his head bent down. Rita and Ken only have a moment to be shocked when they see this man in something other than grainy elevator footage, and realize he’s Detective Carisi’s near match, though his hair is longer and redder.

“Mr. Dubcek, you remember me I’m sure.” Rafael says. “These are my co-councils, Kenneth O’Dwyer and Rita Calhoun.”

“Hi.” The man has no accent, and almost no voice.

“So…Johnny…we understand you saw something last night at work.”

The man shrugs and wraps an arm around himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Johnny, you have to tell us what you saw.” Sonny tries again, looking in his doppelganger’s eye.

The other man looks down at his hands, where a chewed-off hangnail is bleeding. “I didn’t see anything. I didn’t, I swear.”

“Come on, Johnny. Man, we have you on tape.”

His head shoots up, eyes wide. “Y-You what? What tape?”

“On the security camera. We have you on tape. We know you went to her floor just minutes after the two of them left with her.”

His lower lip trembles, and he wrings his hands.

“Johnny” Rita tries “you’re not in any trouble. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Please, help us here.”

“Why? Why do I need to do all this?” His voice quakes.

“Because we need a witness to say they saw what happened, that’s why.” Ken answers.

“But you guys have tape, right? Why can’t you just do that and leave me alone?”

“Because a witness doesn’t leave them any excuses. They could say something stupid like that we doctored the tape, but they can’t say you’re lying as easily.” Rita answers. Johnny slams his fists into the metal table, making them all flinch, before he pulls himself up and stomps to the other side of the room.

“Yes they can! They’re going to take one look at me and everything I did and they’re going to tear me apart!”

“Woah, woah Johnny calm down.” Sonny tries.

“Shut the hell up! What, you think just because you look like me you can tell me what to do? Don’t touch me!” He smacks Carisi’s hand away before hiding under his arms. Carisi glances over at the collected lawyers before looking back at Johnny, who’s breathing hard and heavy.

“Look, John, I’m not trying to get you jammed up here.” His voice is soft and soothing. “I’m not going to push you. But I think…I think you saw something that scared the hell out of you. I think you saw something so shocking, and you can’t believe you’re the guy with the awful luck to see it. And I think you’re a good enough guy to know what you gotta do.”

That gets the haggard man to look at Sonny. He blinks a few times, fighting back tears.

“But…but what if something happens?” He asks softly. Sonny thinks a moment.

“You remember that trial against DCS?”

Johnny hugs himself, and glances at Barba before looking at Sonny again.

“Yeah, I remember. With the little girl in the cage. And they tried pinning it on the one guy. But it wasn’t his fault. He wouldn’t’ have done it if someone else didn’t make him.”

“See? You do remember. Well trust me, he’s going to be just like that with this case. And the two of them are just as fucking brutal. I swear, you might even feel bad for him by the time it’s over.”

“Them.” Johnny mumbles, and casts his gaze away before meeting it again. “Them. Both of them.”

“That’s right. Both of them.”

He swallows hard, then walks past Sonny and goes to sit with the lawyers again. “So what do I have to do?”

They look at each other, silently confirming their game plan before Rafael speaks.

“You’ll have to testify before a silent grand jury. We will present the evidence to 23 people who will decide whether or not to indict.”

“And if they do?” Johnny asks.

“If all goes as it should, then we’ll proceed to trial.” Rita continues.

“Trial…does that mean cameras?”

“Yes, that will mean cameras. This is going to be a highly publicized trial.” Ken goes on. Rafael puts up a hand to silence him when he sees the way Johnny’s face tightens. He feels a twinge, deep in his chest.

“Johnny, I understand that this is difficult for you. I know that this cannot be easy. But right now, I need you to think about doing the right thing. I need you to think about Johanna Tomkin, and help her get justice.”

Johnny looks at them all, his wide eyes going through each of them before settling on the table in front of himself. His eyes squeeze shut, and his voice comes out high.

“Okay…okay…”  his tears slip out, and down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I am on pace with this story. With the way things are going I might switch to posting once a day.   
> As always, comments and kudos are welcome. Can't wait to hear what you're thinking.


	4. Preliminary Containment

It takes the grand jury all of forty minutes to come back with their decision to indict on rape and attempted manslaughter charges. After hearing Johanna, who’s injuries are still fresh and easy to see, along with Johnny’s testimony, that of the SANE nurse, and seeing the footage, there’s little for them to discuss. The rape kit is presented as well, but without a DNA match to either perp it’s not much use.

That will come later.

Right now, it’s time to make the arrest. Liv goes, and she takes Carisi with her to Trump Tower, because of course he’s there instead of in Washington D.C.

Liv notices how Carisi keeps wiping his hands on his pant leg. Her own hands are stuck to the steering wheel.

_I can’t believe they indicted. I can’t believe they said yes to this. How the hell do we do this? God, we should have taken a bigger car for this. What if the Secret Service needs to ride along with them?_

They park illegally in front of the building. Liv takes a long breath and pats her hands against her trousers, then looks over at her detective. He nods, then steps out. They stride in like they belong, and really it’s not rocket science to find the two of them. When they tell one of the staff that they have a warrant for their arrest, she stalls.

“Ma’am, you need to tell us where they are. If not, you’re complicit in harboring fugitives.”

“I…is this a prank?”

Liv unfolds the warrant and holds it for her to see. “Does this look like a prank? Now tell us where Donald Trump and Mike Pence are.”

The staff member has to repeat what she says three times, since the first two come out jumbled and panicked. Carisi doesn’t have the time to reassure her that everything is going to be alright because he knows it’s not. They don’t say a word in the elevator or on the search to find the room they were directed to. Not another word is said until Liv flashes the warrant to the Secret Service member stood outside the door they’ve been directed to.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in.” The man says firmly.

“That’s an arrest warrant. If you don’t, I’ll have to bring you up on obstruction charges.”

He stalls. She cocks her head at him. _Oh god, he has no idea what to do here either._

“I…I-“

“There’s two judges signatures on that warrant. You want to tell them both why you’re stalling us?”

“It’s just…is this allowed? Do you have jurisdiction?”

“Over a crime committed in my city? Yes, I do. Now step aside.”

She can’t read him behind his glasses, but he relents and opens the door. Sonny wants to scream when he sees the two of them just sat there, eating lunch. Well, not just them, it’s them and an assortment of staff members, but they’re not the ones being arrested.

“Donald Trump, stand up.” Liv’s voice is stern, and her stride sure.

“Woah, sweetheart, I’m sorry but I’m in the middle of lunch-“

“I’m not your sweetheart.” She flashes the warrant at him. “And you’re under arrest. Stand up.”

“Honey, please-“

“That’s a Lieutenant you’re talking to. Don’t call her another stupid name.” Carisi snaps.

“Excuse me, but that’s the President of the United States you’re talking to.” Mike Pence sits up in his seat.

“Oh yeah, you’re under arrest too.” Carisi adds.

“What?”

“Get up.” He says surely, and glares down at the older man.

“You two are making a ‘uge mistake. This isn’t happening-“

“Do you want to be charged with resisting arrest too? If not then get up.” Liv’s voice is hard, and so is her grip when she yanks the unexpecting man out of his seat. The white haired man complies, holding his hands up.

Carisi slaps the cuffs on him with ease.

“I’m your president! You can’t arrest me! You’re going to send the world crashing down!” The orange man yells.

“I’m not so sure about that. Walk.” Liv says, and gives him a push to get going.

“This is a crime! You hear me! A crime!” He yells, still trying to resist while Liv walks him out.. Just before they get to the threshold, Sonny can’t resist leaning in to Pence’s ear and murmuring “How does it feel to know a bisexual just cuffed you?”

He stops dead in his tracks and turns back to look at Carisi, his face horrified. His own is still smooth.

“Walk.” He repeats his Lieutenant’s word. Before he has to push, Pence complies. All the while, the orange man is screaming. By the time they make it outside, where the media is assembled, he’s throwing out Hillary Clinton’s name.

 _Hillary Clinton didn’t make you rape anyone, jackass._ Sonny thinks while lowering Pence into the car. It’s a tight squeeze with the hulking Serviceman between them.

 _Should’ve brought an SUV for his fat ass_ Liv thinks, and slams the door shut.

The slam of her own door seems muted and far away.

She can feel the same thought passing through Carisi’s mind. Made even louder by the screaming man behind them.

_What have we done?_

****

Arraignment is a circus of cameras and lights and news outlets. And of course it is. That much was to be expected.

The unexpected part is when a single lawyer shows up to defend Trump and Pence together. It’s also a man Barba has only heard of but never crossed paths with.

“On the charges of rape in the first degree, assault in the first degree, and attempted manslaughter in the second degree, how do your clients plead?” the presiding judge asks.

“Not guilty your honor.” Trump answers for them. “I am completely incapable of hurting a woman in that way. And frankly this is such a waste of time, I’m just going to draft an order to make this all go away when I get back to Washington.”

“Mr. Logansworth, control your client and make it clear to him that there is no assurance he will be returning to Washington any time soon.”

“Your honor, this is my courtroom-“

A hard gavel smack shuts him up. “Mr. Trump, if you are under any illusion that you run the judicial system, I strongly advise you ditch said notion. The District Attorney has chosen to move forward on this case, and so we are. People on bail?”

“The people request remand, as both defendants are flight risks and committed a brutal, violent crime. Allowing them back on the streets would pose a threat to public safety.”

“Your honor, the ADA is making a grave political mistake. I move for the entirety of these charges be dismissed.”

“Nice try, Counselor, but a complete overreach. As is remand. I move for the defendants to remain within the city, but due to their high profile will instead be closely monitored by the Secret Service. In addition to this, the defendants will surrender their passports.”

“Lady, I’m your president, you can’t just take away my passport.”

Another hit. “That’s ‘Your Honor’ to you. And yes, I can. And so far as anyone is concerned, in court, you’re not a president. You’re a man who is awaiting trial. Both of you are.”

“I’m president and I’ll always be president. Forever.”

“Mr. Trump, you’ll be lucky if you’re still president by the end of this year. That said, this case has nothing to do with your presidency and everything to do with you and your accomplice Mr. Pence raping a woman and leaving her for dead.” Barba cuts him off. He has no nerves, no qualms, no worries. He’s not looking at a president. He’s looking at a rapist.

“Save the theatrics for trial Mr. Barba, I’ve already given my bail sentencing.”

“Before being dismissed, I would like to request a DNA order for both defendants to test against fluids found in the rape kit.”

“Order granted.” The gavel bangs. “Next case.”

Rafael sees himself out, with Liv and Sonny flanking him. He remains undeterred despite the flash of cameras, the jostling of reporters, the microphones shoved in his face, because he knows he’ll be talking plenty soon enough.

 _This is only the beginning_ he thinks once he’s finally in the back of their squad car. A sick déjà vu passes over him, but he forces it down for the moment.  

He can’t worry about that now. The only thing he can worry about now is if he should call Rita or Kenneth first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is fam.   
> Guys...I love this story. So will you, I hope.   
> Anyway, keep it up with the comments and kudos! I love hearing from you all.


	5. Prepatory Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw- racism/white supremacy/ neo-nazis

_September 9 th, Ten Days Before_

“How many fucking motions to dismiss can one person file?” Rita exclaims.

“Oh, really? Like the talking orangutan and his sidekick the failed conversion therapy experiment are going to have a single lawyer? No doubt they’ve got at least four lawyers working on this. And why stop there? Why not six? Eight? Ten?” Ken goes on.

“Because the table’s not big enough.” Barba answers, his voice muffled by the book his face is pressed into.

“Barba, you can’t see anything that close.” Rita interrupts. “Sit up, trade books with me, maybe you’ll get inspired.”

He sighs, lacking the energy to find a comeback. She pulls the book away that he had his nose in, then plops the one she was reading in its place. Rafael drains coffee cup, the fifth or sixth, he can’t remember, and tries again to figure out the complex wording of his law books, looking for anything he can use to fight the third motion in five days, this one against using the victim’s own testimony. The law cited is so obscure and so old that it makes Rafael want to scream at whoever wrote it.

“I can’t see straight anymore.” Rafael admits, and pushes the book away.

“All nighters don’t help.” Ken adds. Rafael rolls his eyes.

“What, are you a detective now too?”

“No, just a user of common sense.”

“Well it’s not lack sleep.”

“Is it lack of food?” Rita asks. “You didn’t get anything this morning, that’s worrying.”

He sighs. _Really? I’m that obvious?_ “I woke up with a sour stomach is all.”

“You and me both, but you need to eat. Otherwise you’re going to pass out and I’m not taking you to the hospital again.” Rita answers.

“Again?” Ken asks. Rafael holds up a hand.

“Just…don’t switch from coffee to Redbull on an empty stomach.”

“You’ll feel better once you eat.” Rita supplies. “Shouldn’t our food be here by now?”

“It’s lunch hour, Rita. They’ll be here soon enough.” Ken answers.

“Fair enough.” Rita replies and returns the new book before her. The only thing breaking their silence is when Barba’s phone buzzes. Thrice it vibrates a singular time, and twice it begins to ring, but Rafael clicks his phone so the noise stops. The third time his phone starts buzzing, he answers it.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, uh, is this…Rafael Barba?” A man asks on the other end.

“Yes, who is this?”

“It’s your Chinese delivery guy. Actually, I’m not Chinese, I’m black. And I’m not getting out of my car.”

Barba blinks hard a few times, sitting up in his chair. “Uh…sir, why is that?”

“Man, look out your window.”

He gets up and goes to it. There’s a dark blue car on the curb in front of his building, and on the sidewalk there’s a group gathered. Mostly he sees red hats, but there’s a new addition to the group.

“Oh…okay, I understand. But what do you recommend I do?”

“Send a white guy to come get it. Maybe two.”

“Dammit, I wish that was a joke. Give me a minute.”

He hangs up and gets to his feet. “Come on, Ken.”

“Where’re you going.”

“ _We_ are going downstairs to get the food from our delivery guy, who doesn’t exactly feel comfortable trying to walk past the Confederacy’s battle line.”

Ken sighs and puts his own book and legal pad away, and pulls on his jacket. Rafael pats his jacket pocket, then his pants one.

Ken thinks Rafael is exaggerating until they get down to the street. When he sees the protesters now carrying Confederate flags as they walk around in their circle chanting ‘M-A-G-A’, he understands.

Rafael keeps his hand in his pants pocket until he gets to the car, at which point he pulls out his wallet out of his jacket. A man with dark skin and a head full of curly hair is revealed when the window rolls down.

“Well look at that, you brought a white guy.”

“It’s why they keep me around.” Ken answers.

“No doubt, man, do doubt.” He replies, and reaches over to the passenger side where their food is. Ken takes the box, and Rafael hands the delivery man a twenty.

“Seriously, man?”

“Consider it an apology.”

He looks at the folded up bill again and nods.

“Sweet. Well, good luck to you.”

“Same to you. Drive quickly.” Rafael offers before stepping away. He keeps his hand in his pocket while he walks past the two dozen or so people, grasped around his stun gun, while Ken stands as a buffer between them.

 _I wonder what FOX news will have to say about this?_ Rafael wonders after catching a glimpse of their van across the street.

 

_September 11 th, Eight Days Before_

Rafael is aware of what day it is the moment he wakes up. _Eight days_ he thinks, before his mind does the math and tells him why everyone else is afraid today. Why every other New Yorker is going to be just as nervous as he is.

His stomach is his alarm, and it’s an entire hour faster than the one on his phone. When the burning, screaming pain of his upset intestines subsides, it means Rafael is ready to leave for work a full hour early. He expects Sonny to be asleep still when he comes out of the bathroom again.

Instead, Sonny is sat up in bed with his leg bent at an odd angle.

“Sonny?”

“Hey Rafe, can you help me?”

“I have to leave-“

“Please? It’s my leg.”

“Okay” Barba relents after a beat of silence. He crosses the room to their bed, and Sonny turns on the lamp on his side. His face is flushed, as is the skin surrounding his bullet scar. Sonny lays back on their bed.

“Just push my leg towards my chest, that should help.”

Rafael kneels between his husband’s legs and pushes down on his left shin, so his calf is pressed against the underside of his thigh, while the top of his thigh is pushed to his stomach.

A strange feeling passes over Rafael as he takes his husband in in such a way. In the lamp light, Rafael can see the light brown hair that’s spread over Sonny’s hips and down into his intimate areas. There’s a detailed flash in his mind of just where on the expanses of creamy skin Rafael left love bites to match the ones his husband created.

Another wave of oddness washes through him when it dawns on Barba just how long it’s been since he’s had such an intimate view of the love of his life. He forgets in his daze how hard he’s leaning on him, but somewhere in there Carisi’s pained groans fade into mildly heavy breathing.

His daze is broken when he notices the blackness slipping between their shades is blue.

“Oh que la, I have to go.” He springs up off the bed and scrambles to find his shoes.

“Wh- Right now?” Carisi asks, sitting up in his own confused state. “It’s so early.”

“I need to be there early.” Rafael comes back, his shoes on. “I’ll see you later.”

“If I call you today, are you going to pick up?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious.”

Rafael sighs and comes over to Sonny, taking his face between his hands. “I promise, if you call me today I will pick up. But for now, I have to go. I love you.”

Rafael leans down to kiss Sonny, but the hand that rests on his neck stops him. Rafael’s brows knit, and the corners of his mouth turn down.

“Can you say it in Spanish?”

One corner turns up, and Rafael’s lips press to Sonny’s temple before letting out the words “te amo, querido.”

He kisses his cheek next. “Te amo mucho.”

A few more kisses are peppered over his cheek before he plants one on Sonny’s lips.

“I love you too.” Sonny murmurs.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Rafael pulls away, taking the momentary warmth Sonny felt with him.

 

_September 13, Six Days Before_

Barba’s rude awakening comes an hour later than what’s becoming ‘normal.’ His body refuses to let him have only three hours of sleep.

It means that, when he’s dressed in his suit- his armor against words and ideas only, not bullets- the sun is already up and the city is in full swing. He feels a new twinge of fear every time he goes near their front door, even in his mind.

 _This Is ridiculous. This is just fucking ridiculous_ one half or Rafael chides.

 _Is it?_ The other half mocks, and he feels a new bout of perspiration start beneath his shirt.

“Hey Sonny?” Rafael calls out. The blonde man returns from their closet, dressed in his own subdued outfit.

“You look like a ghost. You okay?”

“Yeah, fine, fine. Listen…can you walk me to work today?”

“Oh, so what, you just knew instinctively that my leg was feeling better? You know, since you didn’t actually ask.”

“You didn’t mention it all day yesterday, I figured it felt better.”

“Oh sure, that’s how it works-“

“Sonny, please.”

“A’right, a’right, but I’m not walking. I’ll get us an Uber.”

“Okay.” Rafael agrees because he knows why Sonny is mad. He knows and he wants to apologize for being so distant, but his mind is too busy clicking over how he’s going to handle Motions Court that all his words are tied up.

Sonny hears alarm bells when he asks Barba “Really? That shirt and that tie? You sure clashing patterns are such a good idea today?” and he just shrugs.

No comeback. No insult. Just a shrug and his hand tapping against his pants pocket.

To be fair, Sonny taps his own hip, feeling his holster before stepping out their door. He checks the peephole in their front door before they walk out. He can’t escape the sick, lingering déjà vu that’s holding his brain and his personality hostage.

And he’s glad to see Rafael off to work. Later on, when his calls are ignored and his texts unread, he’ll know he at least made it there intact.

Sonny uses his thumb to push his wedding band around on his finger during the ride, while his eyes keep dancing around to take in the passing scenes. Everyone else is going about their day, minding their own business, keeping their heads down and their strides fast. Mothers push their babies in strollers. Men in suits hold cellphones to their ears. Panhandlers play their guitars and bang on pots. A stall sells bootleg movies and cheap watercolor paintings. Cabs cut one another off and almost hit pedestrians.

And then… _are those…? Really? In New York?_

The sidewalk in front of Rafael’s building is blocked off, but the one across from it- the one Sonny can see out his window- is awash with swastikas and Confederate insignia. And, on the sidewalk catty corner to the nasty group, reporters are straining to catch a glimpse. The grip his angst holds makes his throat tighten and his chest burn. Slowly, he turns his eye on Rafael.

“How long has it been like this?”

“Since the indictment. But this is the biggest group I’ve seen so far.”

Sonny looks over again to the mass of them. Lots of red. Lots of beige uniforms. Lots and lots of light skin.

“Maybe…maybe you wait for me tonight, so I can take you home.”

“It’s going to be another late night.”

“I can stay awake.”

“Okay.”

Sonny sighs and rests a hand on his husband’s. Barba turns his hand over and wraps it around his, and squeezes it gently.

“Keep your gun close.”

“Always.” Sonny promises. They linger a moment before Rafael leaves the car. Sonny’s eyes stay glued to his back. So are the reporters’, whose voices rise to a hubbub until he’s disappeared through the building’s doors.

 

_September 15, Four Days Before_

The usual noise of the squad room is marred by the light, repeated ‘thudding’ of Carisi’s pencil eraser against his desk. It’s inconsistent and irregular, with spells of much harder thwacking and moments where it seems to have stopped. When that hope is dashed for the tenth time, Amanda snaps.

“Carisi, could you not?”

He stops and looks over at her, the worry etched into the lines around his eyes and mouth. He looks so _old_ when he’s worried.

“He’ll text you back when he gets a chance. But he’s working right now.”

“You didn’t see it, Rollins. I swear, it was the weirdest fucking thing. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“I know Carisi, I know. Just…focus on your work. Your phone is on so loud, you’ll hear it when he texts you.”

He smacks his pencil down on his desk and goes back to looking at his computer. Amanda lifts her eyes and trades a glance with Fin, who’s wearing his ‘I’m not dealing with that’ look.

Amanda’s right though. All of them hear Carisi’s phone bleep with a text just after they return from a call. The noise startles Carisi, making him flinch.

He picks it up, and for a split second he’s frozen. A sick chill runs over his skin before he opens the message. His skin prickles with goosebumps at the video sent to him. He knows what it is before he even presses play.

A burning cross. Across the street from Rafael’s office building.

His phone buzzes three more times in a row with messages.

-Oh my god-

-Sonny. I’m scared-

-Sonny, I’m really fucking scared. What do I do?-

Sonny calls him before he knows what he’s doing. It picks up right away.

“Oh my god, oh my god Sonny, they’re- they’re really- it’s really- oh my god oh my _god_ -“

“Woah,, hey Rafe, calm down for me. You’re safe inside?”

“I’m not safe, I haven’t been safe in so long and I’m never going to be safe again.”

“You called the police, right?”

“Who the hell am I going to call?! I’m not safe with any of them! I’m not- I can’t-“

He breaks off into heavy breathing, which chokes up into sobs.

“Okay, Rafe calm down-“

“They’re burning a cross outside my fucking office! I can’t calm down!”

“I’m on my way. Stay put.”

“Sonny…Sonny, I’m sorry, I never should’ve taken this, I should’ve-“

“Shut up, yes, you should have.” Sonny insists while he grabs his coat and the keys to the car he just returned in. Amanda stares after him, wondering if she should follow.

Liv exits her office when she hears the commotion stop, only to stare.

“Where’s Carisi?”

“Uh-“ Amanda tries. Fin, who’s sat in front of the TV, cuts her off.

“Liv, you gotta see this.”

****

Rita and Ken are sat outside of Barba’s office. Sonny is red in the face.

“What happened?” He demands.

“I called 911. He said it was no use, but I did it anyway.” Ken answers.

“And you two left him alone in there?”

“He insisted.” Rita answers. “He screamed at us to get out. How is it down there?”

“There’s cops in riot gear, but the thing isn’t on fire anymore and I didn’t have to shoot my way in here. He’s in there?” Sonny says, already walking into Rafael’s office. He closes the door, gently, behind himself. Rafael’s hugging himself, his eyes shut, his breathing hard.

“Oh my god, Rafe what happened?” He asks, striding across the room, his arms wrapping around him on reflex.

“Get off me!” Rafael snaps, pushing Sonny so hard that he trips over his own feet, and has to catch himself on the desk. Sonny’s eyes go wide, his expression turning hurt like a kicked puppy.

It happens so fast. Rafael doesn’t understand what he’s done until he opens his eyes. He pulls his arms close to his body again, his hands balled up into fists. The joints between the first and second longest bones in his fingers are pressed up under his nose, and his own eyes are reddening with tears. His gaze pleads, begging for Sonny to understand, before he has to close them tight.

Carisi straightens up and brushes off his jacket, while he searches his lover’s stance.

“I….I’m…” Rafael chokes on the words, and he presses his fists into his eyes.

“I know.” Sonny says, though he still sounds pained.

A quiet knock stops the conversation, solidifying the uncomfortable distance between them. Rafael turns so his face is hidden from whoever enters.

“You rang for a security detail?” Munch’s voice breaks the silence as he and Elliot enter into the room.

“Thank god you guys are here.”

“Wait, who are these guys again?” Ken asks, following them into the room.

“That’s Detective Munch” Rita answers “and that’s…”

“Detective Stabler. Liv’s old partner.”

“Also known as half of your new security detail.” Munch says. “Now everyone pack their papers, we’re leaving.”

“What?” Ken’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Your papers.” Elliot repeats. “And anything else you need to do your job, pack it up. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” Rafael asks, his voice strong enough finally. “Where’re we going?”

“Our apartment.” Sonny answers.

“What? Are you crazy?!”

“Short of witness protection, it’s the safest place for you to be.” John insists.

Rafael turns to see them, but the first face he sees is Sonny’s. With his face so creased, so anguished, right on the verge of anger, it extinguishes any ideas Rafael has about fighting.

 

_September 17 th, Two Days Before_

“Barba, quit angsting.” Ken says at the tail end of another rant. “We got the entire account admitted. Now both us and the doctor can use them as evidence.”

“But is it enough?”

“Will it ever be enough?” Ken asks. Rafael cracks his knuckles.

“I just wish we had something better. Another witness, someone who could say they saw them get rid of her.”

“Do we really need that? We have the forensics too.” Ken adds.

“They’re crying consent.”

“Did that look consensual to you?”

“No, it didn’t. But you know how people are about this guy.”

“Well, look, some people just aren’t going to believe it no matter what’s shown to them.” Rita answers.

“So what? We give up?”

“Fuck no, we have a good chance at a conviction.” Ken replies.

“Exactly. This is New York, remember?” Rita adds. “It’s not like it happened in Georgia, where no jury would convict him.”

“Please, we wouldn’t have gotten this far. It would’ve been hushed up down there. Who knows, maybe it already has been.”

“Hey.” Sonny whistles. “Time out guys. Take ten.”

The three lawyers glare at him.

“What?” Rita asks.

“Come on, put the work down for a few and come eat. I’m Italian, I know a little something about yelling. Like yelling isn’t as tempting when you have a full stomach.”

Rafael sighs and rubs his jaw before complying, and Rita follows suit.

“You’re actually listening?” Ken asks.

“It’s not up for debate.” Sonny crosses his arms. “Move it, O’Dwyer. You’re a guest in my house and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you go without dinner.”

“Is your hospitality always this forceful?” He asks while complying.

“Not when people cooperate and eat when they’re supposed to. You want a drink or another cup of coffee?” Sonny asks while they take their seats around the table made for four, but in this apartment only ever seats two. Their plates are filled with hunks of lasagna and slathered in more red sauce.

Sonny’s contented, just barely, by their momentary silence.

 

_September 18 th, The Day Before _

“Where’s all the food?”

“Where do you think?” Rita asks, looking up from her laptop. The empty packages covering the coffee table speak near as loud as the ones in the kitchen garbage. Sonny sighs.  

“What’d I expect?”

“I don’t know detective, what did you expect?” Ken asks, not even looking up from his papers.

“Something besides crumbs, obviously.” He says, and picks up the completely empty containers, sparing the ones with morsels left.  He leaves them all be, his exit going unnoticed. When he reenters, it’s after changing into more casual clothes.

“Alright, I’m going to get dinner. What do we want?”

“You don’t have to do that, we were going to order in.” Rafael says, finally tearing his gaze from his work. Sonny shrugs.

“I gotta go out again anyway. You guys are fine here. What do we want? Chinese?”

“Oh, no, Chinese was today’s lunch.” Ken cuts in. “How about Italian?”

“No, too many choices.” Rita says. “How about pizza?”

“Pizza falls under the Italian umbrella.”

“No, pizza is a specific dish. Italian is a category.”

“Under which pizza falls.”

“Oh my god,” Rafael cuts in “you two have been playing semantics all day. Ether pick something to eat or shut the fuck up or so help me god one of you is eating your briefcase for dinner.”

The other two lawyers cast a wary glance at Barba, then at each other.

“Pizza?” Rita offers.

“Pizza.” Ken agrees.

“Alright, pizza. One plain and one mushroom?”

“Mushrooms?” Ken groans.

“Yes, mushrooms. Unless you want that briefcase sandwich.” Barba adds.  The other man sighs and nods.

“Fine. I’ll eat from the plain one.”

“Damn right you will.”

“Okay, I’ll be back.” Sonny pats Rafael’s shoulder as he walks past, and it’s so quick that Rafael can’t reciprocate the touch.

“Bye.” The other two lawyers offer as Sonny walks out of their apartment. Rafael stares after him, catching a glimpse of Elliot outside their door. He stares at the door even after it closes, his heart tight in his chest.

 _Love you too_.

“Hey, Barba.” Rita snaps her fingers, bringing him out of his state. “You here with us?”

“Yeah…yeah.” He relents, and goes back to the jumble words on his page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story...man, the more I write of it the more I fall in love with it.  
> I hope you guys feel the same way reading it.  
> Like always, thank you for the kind words and kudos. They really matter to me.


	6. Searing Contempt

Judge Barth’s gallery is normally half full. There’s some family, some witnesses, the detectives from the case, and that’s about it. Today, it’s jam packed with cameras and reporters even before she arrives. Before she shows, the teams of lawyers assemble. Barba first, with Ken sitting on the other end and Rita between them. They go over notes, they review key facts, the spread out what they’ll need for the day’s proceedings, and they pretend they don’t notice the uptake in camera shutters when Trump and company enter.

“Rita Calhoun, look at you.” Lester Cohen slithers over to the group of them. Neither Barba nor Ken make any motion to address him.

“Lester, oh how I haven’t missed you. Shouldn’t you be conferring with your clients? Or at least trying to figure out how to make them consider a plea deal?”

“Oh Rita, you know me better than that. I must say, it is quite a surprise, still, to see you on the prosecution side.”

“Well, you should join us. There’s considerably less guilt.”

He chuckles. “Oh Rita, you know if this case had happened six months ago you would be sat next to me on the defense’s side.”

“You sound so sure. Even though John Buchanan and Trevor Langan declined to help with your client’s case. But I guess there’s a difference between them and you.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“That they’re bright enough to know when it’s unlikely they’ll be paid.”

He gives her a venomous smile.

“Because that’s all the incentive you need. Good to see you again, Rita.”

“It’s nice to know you’re on our side this time.” Barba mutters to her once Cohen is gone.

“Nice to be on your side this time.” She mutters back.

“All rise.” The court officer’s words cut in, and everyone comes to their feet. Judge Barth enters, her features calm and collected and her stance the same as always.

Rafael’s not listening. He looks like he’s listening to Roger Logansworth (his given name learned during a brief but regretted few minutes of watching CNN’s pre-trial coverage) make his opening statement, but his eyes are fixed and his body, while Rita and Ken jot down key words of his to be used later.

No, Rafael is too busy repeating his opening statement in his mind over and over, until he’s sure he can recite it, all the while trying to block out the noise from the cameras. On his cue, Barba rises to his feet and stands before the jury, which he’s satisfied with after two days of jury selection. His voice is calm and even, but loud enough for the entire courtroom to hear.

“For the duration of this trial, I ask you all to forget about politics. This case, no matter what your friends, the media, or the defendants themselves may try to tell you, is not about politics. This case instead is about two men named Donald Trump and Mike Pence,” he points them out “who kidnapped Johanna Tomkin from her own office, brutally raped her, and left her for dead behind a dumpster.”

“The prosecution will present to you a witness who will testify to seeing the kidnapping take place. You will hear from the two detectives who took the victim’s statement hours after her ordeal, as well as the Lieutenant who worked as part of the investigation and arrested Mr. Trump when the time came. A criminal pathologist who is also a retired FBI agent, will explain that the actions taken by these two men, while not a given, were highly likely. The evidence the people will present will prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Donald Trump and Mike Pence committed these gruesome acts.”

“I ask you, show the world that America does not absolve its powerful men of their crimes simply because of their power. When you look at these two men for who they are and not what positions they hold, you will have no choice but to find them guilty.”

Rita and Ken both nod slightly when he returns to his seat, but none of their faces change. A good thing, since there are cameras on all of them. A steady feeling descends over Barba as they are told to call their first witness.

Johnny Dubcek is their first witness. He’s even skinnier than Sonny, and the bags underneath his eyes are pronounced. Once sworn in, he keeps his eyes firmly down, while he starts wringing his hands out of view of the cameras. Rita gets to her feet and crosses the courtroom to him, standing right in his line of vision.

“Mr. Dubcek, can you please tell me where you were on the night of Sunday, September 3rd, 2017?”

“I…I uh…”

“Mr. Dubcek, you’ll have to speak up for the stenographer.” Rita says softly. He clears his throat and digs his nails into his palm.

“I…I was at work. Cleaning up. I work at night in that office building. The one Johanna works in. ”

“Tell me, did you see anything abnormal that night while you were cleaning?”

He nods, making the curled ends of his hair quiver in a way that makes Rafael ache for this man’s look-alike.

“Yeah. When I went to clean up on the fourteenth floor.”

 “And what did you see while you were cleaning up there?” Rita asks, while leaning on the jury box.

“I…I, um, I came out of one of the offices, and I saw those guys go into Ms. Tomkin’s office.” He points to the two men on the defendant side.

“Did you know who they were?” She asks.

“I mean…yeah, of course I knew who they were. I saw both their faces, but I was kinda confused over why they were even there.”

“So what did you do in such an odd situation?”

“I-I uh…I went back to doing my job. I didn’t want to get in trouble for staring.”

“What did you see next?”

“I…I was cleaning up in one of, like, the big conference rooms, when I heard a big crash. I kinda crept over to the door to see what was going on. I stood there for a few minutes, until I saw Mr. Trump come walking out of the room with Ms. Tomkin.”

“How so?”

“Well…she wasn’t walking. She was kinda being carried, but she was kicking. And then Mr. Pence, he went rushing after the two of them into the elevator.”

“Did you see them get into the elevator?”

“No, but, um, the door to the room that, like, leads to the elevators? It has a push bar, so you can hear when someone opens it.”

“Did you check her office?”

He nods, and his hair falls in his face.

“Mr. Dubcek, I need you to say your answers out loud, for the record.”

“Sorry. Um, yeah, I went in.”

“And what did you see?”

He blinks a few moments.

“I uh…it was all wrong. Usually Ms. Tomkin leaves her door open, but it wasn’t right. Her lights were on, her briefcase was still there, her papers were all spread out. She never leaves anything out like that. And…and her shoe was there.”

“Her shoe?”

“Yeah. Just, like, one shoe. And she usually takes off her shoes while she’s working at night, but she always puts them on to leave.”

“What did you do with this shoe?”

“I put it on her chair. Y’know, so if she came back, she’d find it right away.”

“When did you realize that Ms. Tomkin wasn’t coming back?”

He swallows and looks down at his hands, then at Rita. He looks like he might cry.

“I uh….I was almost done cleaning, so I went back to her floor. But everything was all still weird”

“So what did you do?”

“I couldn’t do anything.”

“You couldn’t or you didn’t?”

“No…no I guess I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if I would be getting her in trouble if I said anything.”

“Thank you. No further questions.” She walks back to her seat. Johnny keeps his eyes down when Roger Logansworth stands up.

“Mr. Dubcek, you are a convicted felon, is that correct.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He blinks hard.

“And you’ve been working at the same office with Ms. Tomkin for how long?”

“Um…like, a year and a half.”

“Like a year and a half.” He repeats. “Is that why you knew she didn’t wear shoes when she worked at night?”

“Yeah.” He tries and fails to clear his throat. “Because, one night she came and found me, and she told me there was a broken coffee mug in the break room on her floor. I hadn’t gotten there yet, but she asked me if I could just sweep it up, before I did anything else, so she wouldn’t cut her feet. I asked why she couldn’t just put her shoes on, but she just smiled and asked me again, and I didn’t want to get in trouble for arguing.”

“So you did as she asked that night. Fine. How about the night of her alleged assault?”

“What about it?”

“Well? Had you seen Ms. Tomkin the night of her alleged assault?”

“I saw her light was on. I didn’t actually see her until she was being…carried out.”

“So what did you do? Aside from tampering with what could have been a crime scene?”

“Uh-“

“You didn’t even bother to say hello when you saw President Trump and Vice President Pence?”

“Well, no-“

“Why not? You don’t say one word to them but you expect us to believe you saw them?”

“But-“

“Did you even try to stop them when you allegedly saw them kidnapping Ms. Tomkin?”

“I didn’t know-“

“But you now have no problem accusing then in front of the world, all without exchanging a single word.”

“Because I knew better! I knew not to talk to them! A-at these jobs, th-th-they tell you to never make a scene. Hell, you’re not even supposed to be seen. I didn’t…I didn’t wanna be seen. I couldn’t be seen.” The tears spill over onto his face, while his hands start to shake.

“Why? Because you were the one who harmed Ms. Tomkin?”

“Your honor, objection!” Rafael rises out of his seat. “The defense is badgering the witness into emotional distress.”

“Maybe you should have found a less emotional witness.”

“Counselors.” Judge Barth cuts in. “Save the theatrics, this case has enough of those as it is. I will grant the prosecution’s objection. Mr. Logansworth, if you have a legitimate question I suggest you ask it."

“They’re all legitimate questions!” The orange man bursts out. “He’s the one who brutalized that girl, not me! He’s a violent criminal!”

“I wouldn’t hurt her!” Johnny yells over the gavel banging.

“The defense shall control its client or I will hold him in contempt of court. Be quiet, Mr. Trump.”

“That’s _President_ Trump to you.”

“No, in this courtroom, it is not. And this courtroom will take a thirty minute recess for everyone to collect their heads.”

The gavel hits again, and the lawyers escort the old man out of court, while still yelling over the hubbub.

Johnny looks at the prosecution side, his arms shaking, tears streaming down his face. The three lawyers keep their place, and Johnny gets up from his seat to go speak to them.  

“Mr. Barba, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“

“Johnny.” The older man cuts off. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. You did well. Just don’t go anywhere.”

“W-What? Why?”

“Because…you’re still being cross examined. The judge didn’t tell you to step down.”

“No, n-no I can’t do that.”

“Yes Johnny, you can.” Rafael rests a hand on the man, and he can feel he’s nearly vibrating with tremors. “But you need to calm down. How about we go to a quiet place where you can do that?”

He hugs himself right, putting wrinkles in his suit while he nods. “O-Okay…”

****

When the frenzy calms, Johnny retakes the stand. He’s still digging his nails into his thighs when Rita redirects him, getting him to reiterate why he’s testifying.

“Because…Because Ms. Tomkin doesn’t deserve this. She does the right thing. She deserves justice. I-I had to tell the truth, for her.”

And then it’s Rollins’s turn. Which she takes with dignity and grace, even when Marvin Exley tries to bring up when she was raped. Barba objects, and the objection is sustained, since Judge Barth already knows and already agreed it to be prejudicial.

Still, it lasts over an hour. And to Rafael, the hour seems so much longer because of the dread he’s feeling for what comes next. He trusts Carisi to testify like a pro with Ken, but it’s Logansworth he doesn’t trust. He’s sure the man knows how to push the hot-blooded Italian’s buttons. Even the way he smiles at Sonny makes him want to scream.

But he doesn’t. He grips his pen and starts to take notes.

“Detective Carisi, is it true that you’re married to Counserlor Barba?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” His accent makes him sound casual.

“For how long now?”

“Objection, Relevance.” Ken cuts in.

“Sustained.” Judge Barth says.

“Alright. So, you two are married though. And yet he regularly works with your unit, the so-called ‘Special Victims Unit’. Is that allowed?”

“Yes, it is.”

“But how can that be? That seems like a complete conflict of interest.”

“My Lieutenant, Olivia Benson, she’s known about our relationship since there was anything to know. When I’m the lead detective on a case, she calls another ADA to prosecute for us. Otherwise, there’s no conflict of interest.”

“Ah. So you were not the lead detective on this case?”

“No, my partner Detective Amanda Rollins was the lead detective, as she was the one who caught the case.”

“But, as her partner, you were the one who was called first. After all, you were there for the alleged victim’s outcry.”

“Yes, I took the victim’s disclosure.”

“And this happened rather early, yes? Pre-dawn, in fact?”

“Yes, it was.”

“So you left your marital bed in the middle of the night to pursue a case? Isn’t that the kind of thing that might interfere with a person’s judgement when it comes to prosecuting said case?”

“Are you saying married people can’t do their job? Or queer people? Or is it just me you’re concerned about?”

“I’m making no personal attacks on you, Detective, I’m simply stating the facts for the jury. But since you brought it up, you are a queer person, are you not?”

“Yes, I am.”

“What would you say you ‘identify’” he makes the air quotes “as.”

“I’m a bisexual.”

“A fact which you disclosed to Mr. Pence when you arrested him Did you not say, and I quote “How does it feel to know a bisexual just cuffed you?”

The prosecution side is still. God, how Rafael had prayed that wouldn’t be brought up.

“Yes, I did say that.” Sonny doesn’t sound sorry.

“Mr. Carisi, your _husband_ asked the jury, the gallery, and the entire world to forget about politics during this case. And yet, you made a political statement to Mr. Pence when you were arresting him.”

“That statement was not an attack on Mr. Pence’s policies, but rather on his personality. While his homophobic stance is something he’s made clear through his policies, but it’s not inherently political.”

“Ah, I see. And yet you reinforced whatever preconceived notions you think he might have about queer people by saying such a thing, no?”

“That was never my intention.”

“Oh really?” Mr. Logansworth cocks his head at the jury. “So, what was your intention with that statement, Mr. Carisi?”

“In all honesty, my intention was to give Mr. Pence a taste of the…let’s call it ‘treatment’ Johanna Tomkin suffered at the hands of both Mr. Pence and his accomplice.”

“So in your version of the story, Mr. Pence led the assault?”

“No. But his saliva was found in bite marks left on her body, so he’s not exactly an innocent bystander in all of this.”

“Oh, so you’re a forensics expert now?”

“No, I’m not an expert. But I was shown that both of them had DNA matches to the saliva left in her bite marks and the semen found inside of and on her body.”

“As detective in a case your husband took.”

“As I said before, because I am not the lead detective, it’s not a conflict of interest. A stance which the District Attorney reinforced by telling Barba to keep the case.”

“Yes, go ahead, maintain that notion. Nothing further.”

Rafael’s mind churns in an enraged storm. He’s angry at his husband. He’s enraged at Roger Logansworth. He’s downright seething at the self-satisfied oompa loompa sat on the defense’s side, while his ghostly hemorrhoid companion looks calm as ever.

But, that doesn’t stop him from doing his job. In fact, it heightens his already sharp tongue. He stretches out Melinda’s initial testimony into forty five minutes, while picking out every possible fault of her cross-examiner. It brings him great joy when judge Barth sustains his objections, flustering Sofia Crane and earning him a sharp glare from her when she rejoins her co-councils.

Without the distraction of beating an adversary, Rafael’s hostility bubbles in his stomach, making anyone an easy target. He keeps his mouth shut as the three of them are ushered into two separate police cars. Ken and Rita get the security team, while Sonny takes Rafael home to wait for their return.

The air is thick between the two of them, and neither one can break the silence. It’s shattered only when they enter their apartment, and Rafael throws his briefcase down on the couch. It bounces off the furniture and thuds to the ground.

“Wow, you really fucked us with that bisexual comment, didn’t you?” Rafael steps through the shattered silence.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Rafael spins on his heel.

“Not that bad? Not that bad?! It was the only thing Logansworth wanted to talk about!”

“Yeah, well, that’s his job. But the jury saw through it, I think.”

Rafael grapples with his words, starting a half dozen sentences that don’t have more than a syllable to them.

 _Stop yelling, it’s not his fault this case is so awful_ Rafael thinks.

“Don’t you get it! This could be it! This could be the end to all of this and you’re treating it like it’s a fucking game!”

_Holy crap, no he’s not, he had one slip up. Stop fucking talking._

“Are you talking about this idiotic administration or the entire country?”

Rafael is stunned into silence. He stares back at Sonny. The realization that Sonny hasn’t spoken to him about this case one on one finally hits him, leaving him without words. Sonny looks around for a few moments before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving Rafael to slump into the couch on his own.

The tension in the apartment is palpable. It’s a film, covering all the emotions within its confines and constricting them to the point of suffocation. The other two lawyers feel it, but they contribute to it as well with their own snide comments and sharp barbs at one another.

Dr. Huang feels it when he passes through for his trial prep, in the way that nobody says anything directly to one another.

Munch and Elliot feel it when the speaking heard through the apartment walls periodically turns into yelling, even when the evening turns into the next morning. Tension radiates from the door.

And the yelling becomes less periodic, the fits coming closer and closer together. Contractions in the birth of a blowup that comes when Sonny throws open the door of the bedroom, where he’s been hiding all night, and it bounces against the wall. The robe he’s thrown on reveals a bare V of skin, and his hair is a half-damp mess.

“What the _fuck_ is going on out here?!”

“What the hell does it look like, smartass? We’re working!” Rafael shoots back, and the pain etches the anger deeper into Sonny’s face.

“This? This isn’t work. This is three people screaming at each other!”

“Oh yeah? We’re the ones yelling, huh?” Rita jumps in. “If we’re already doing so much yelling, why are you doing even more yelling?”

“Why am I yelling? Why am I yelling?! Because it’s 1:29 in the morning and I’m trying to get some goddamn sleep, and I can’t do that with screaming lawyers in the next room.” 

“Why the fuck do you need sleep?” Rita yells back, staring him down. “You already had your shot to be useful and you fucked it up. Why the hell do you deserve sleep after fucking up a perfectly good case?” 

Carisi spits out a laugh. "Don't you fucking start, Rita. Don't fucking start with me. Get the hell out of here, and go to sleep. Oh, and by the way, if you are going to insist on working all night, how about you work in the home of whoever doesn't have someone else living with them?!"

"Yeah, anything to make your life easier, detective" Ken sharpens the word. Carisi's fists clench. 

"Seriously, all of you fucking go home and get some sleep. Oh, and while we're making my life easier: next time we run out of k-cups, put them on the fucking list!"

The bedroom door slams, and the air around them settles. The balloon has popped. The anger is out there. Despite the hard, embarrassed knot in his throat, Rafael sighs and flops back against the couch. 

"He's right. This is hopeless."

"Oh, so we're just listening to the tantrums of-"

"Shut. Up." Rafael glares at Ken. "Just. Shut up. Both of you. Go home. Sleep. We'll work better tomorrow."

The three lawyers take turns looking at each other before they realize just how necessary that suggestion is. Rita and Kenneth silently pack their brief cases, and their extra files, and leave, letting themselves be taken home by their security detail. 

Rafael locks the door behind them before he goes into his pitch black bedroom. He has to use the light from the living room to find his pajamas. That light doesn't get turned off until the bathroom one is on. He catches sight of Sonny with his head stuffed under his pillow. 

Rafael's sympathy is dulled by his throbbing headache, which seems aggravated by the hot water as well as the cold. It's still aching when he, finally, gets into bed. The dark helps, his pain ebbing away until he's just tired. 

He reaches out, gently resting a hand on the first bare patch of skin he can find. His hand recognizes the hard wall of Sonny's ribcage, and he follows the lines of his body to find his hand. 

It's splayed open, and complete dead weight. 

He's finally asleep. 

"Lo siento mi héroe" Rafael whispers into the darkness. He falls asleep still holding his husbands hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was planning on writing another chapter of this story today when I got totally sidetracked. Now I'm 1400 words into a very angsty Carisi/Dodds story.   
> Don't worry, that one won't impede with the writing of this one, but don't be surprised when it pops up. And it's probably going to be just a 1/1 story, not a multi chapter fic because I can't do that to myself. 
> 
> Also, indulge my nosiness: tell me below if you've downloaded one of my stories, and if so which one you have.


	7. Bitter Repentance

Underneath Rafael’s expensive suit and focused demeanor, he’s filled with rage. Everything is an uphill battle. Every other word out of his mouth is objected to. The same goes for Rita and Ken, and he’s glad they’re as put together as he is, lest the courtroom would have turned violent the second morning.

There’s a recess after Liv’s testimony, and after the nurse’s. these periodic breaks are the only thing that keep Trump quiet, and keep the opposing lawyers from actually going at one another’s throats.

The whole time, Rafael wishes he had more damning evidence. Yes, the rape kit proves they violated Johanna, and yes the injuries sustained coupled with the way she was left were inconsistent with anything consensual, but he wants more. He wants something that will be the final nail in the coffin for the two smug men sat on the opposite side of the courtroom. Rafael wants something that will prove to the whole world, or the sane half, that these two men deserve a long stretch in prison for what they did.

But they don’t have that. So they settle for what they have. But they’re sure to bring in the best hired gun they can find.

Dr. Huang’s testimony is especially rattling. His collected manner coupled with the way his words sound irrefutable cause the inevitable outburst.

“Your honor, this man is slandering me!” Trump stands so fast that his chair falls back. “He’s using my own tweets against me! He’s limiting the first amendment rights of the president of the United States! That has to be all kinds of illegal!”

The gavel hits while he’s still ranting, and her face shows she’s about done tiptoeing around his feelings.

“Counselors, as difficult as this may be, tell your client to keep his mouth shut.”

Exley and Cohen talk down Trump, while Pence averts his gaze to the ceiling.

“Oh come on, your honor, you’re going to tell the leader of the free world to be quiet?” Roger Logansworth tries with a charming smile.

“In my courtroom, yes. This is reality, not reality TV. If someone wants him to speak he will be spoken to. Otherwise he will remain quiet or be held in contempt. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Jury, disregard that comment. And before we go any further, I would like to remind you of two key facts. One is that tweets, like any other social media, are forms of communication that one can be held accountable for, which is why they were ruled admissible. The second is that, at this point in time, Donald Trump and Mike Pence are not currently President and Vice President of the United States, respectively. Pending this case, those titles are being held by Paul Ryan and Orrin Hatch.”

The fierce joy that grips Rafael by the throat makes him want to clap. But he doesn’t. He smooths down his tie, and proceeds when he’s given his cue to continue his line of questioning.

He’s so glad when the day is over. Tomorrow is going to be the worst, when he’ll have to watch the victim be cross examined by three lawyers Rafael hates, and one he now despises.

He leaves the courtroom and lingers in the halls for Elliot to text Munch, saying he has the car ready for them out front. Rafael has his head bent, looking at his phone, when another old man appears in front of him.

“Well Mr. Barba, quite the show you put on in there today.”

“Marvin Exley, how nice it is to see you again. You’ve come a long way from representing burned out child stars.” 

“And you’ve come a long way from fighting battles you could win. The church and DCS are one thing, but taking on the President of the United States? I think you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Even with that big mouth of yours.” 

“Marvin, how nice it is to see you.” Rita appears at Barba’s side, her smile brittle but her posture relaxed. “I hope you were just leaving.” 

“For now. See you tomorrow, Barba.” The lawyer skulks down the hall. Rita’s face twists into a sneer, and she rests a hand on his arm. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. I’ve had someone try to kill me, I can handle a lawyer talking to me.”

“Car’s here.” Munch interrupts from where he’s been standing two feet from them. “Where’s O’Dwyer?”

“He’s right here.” The man in question appears. “Shall we? I want to be ready for tomorrow’s assault.”

****

The apartment is a mess of papers, food wrappers, and discarded suit jackets. Johanna, along with her own escorts, are in the middle of it all.

They’re still there when Rafael’s phone buzzes, and he glances down at it.

-Doctor at five. Don’t skip.-

The message from Sonny makes him sigh. He waits until Johanna is gone before finding his jacket.

“Where are you going?” O’Dwyer asks.

“I have an appointment.”

“We’re in the middle of a case.” Rita protests.

“I’m keeping this appointment. Don’t worry, I’m only taking one of them, you’ll still have the other.”

“I’d rather have one of you than two of them.” Ken tries. Rafael chuckles.

“Uh huh. Sure. Anyway, I’ll be back.”

“When?”

“Six thirty.” Rafael pats his pockets before heading out, not bothering with a formal goodbye. “I need to be somewhere.”

“Where?” Munch asks.

“Doctor’s appointment. I can’t blow it off again.”

“I’ll go. You hold down the fort.” Elliot says.

“It’s hold the fort.” Munch corrects. “The fort isn’t inflatable and filled with helium, it’s a military term.”

“I’ll be back.” Elliot rolls his eyes and leads the way down to the car. Rafael still feels a bubble of nerves when he sits in a cop car, even if it is in the front seat. He rests a hand on the weapon in his pocket.

“Don’t worry, Counselor. I won’t let anyone get to you.” Elliot speaks a few minutes into their drive. Rafael keeps his gaze fixed, staring out the car’s tinted windows.

“Don’t promise me that. You can’t keep that promise.”

“Sure I can. If I didn’t, Liv would kill me.”

He rolls his eyes. “She can’t be that mad. People are always trying to kill me, eventually it’s going to work.”

“Not on my watch. And not on Sonny’s either.”

The name makes him tense, and nurtures the anxiety in his chest. Elliot takes that as his signal to be quiet, which he is until they get to the doctor’s building. Elliot is glued to Rafael’s side, his hand not too far from his gun. Elliot doesn’t ask who Dr. Lindstrom is, but he does ask Rafael “Do you feel safe being alone in there?”

“I’m okay. You just watch the waiting room.”

His office door opens, and Peter’s on the other side of it. “Ah, Rafael, good to see you. Who is this?”

“Former Detective Elliot Stabler.” The man in question answers and nods. “Do you have another patient you’re expecting?”

“No, I’m not. However, I do take walk-in’s from time to time.”

“Good to know.” He looks at Rafael for confirmation. “I’ll be out here.”

Rafael nods, and doesn’t speak again until he’s behind closed doors.

“Security detail. After the cross-lighting in front of my office building, they’ve been around all the time.”

“At night too? Are they making you and the other two lawyers have one big slumber party or is your night security just Sonny?”

The name makes Rafael’s heart hurt. He stands up out of his chair and paces from one end of the room to the other.

“I really fucked up in taking this case.”

“You did?” The good doctor sits up in his chair. Rafael meets his eye, just for a second, before he continues his pacing.

“I did. When I took this, I thought it was the right thing to do. Now…I’m back to having a security detail. I have white supremacists who want me dead because I’m prosecuting their champion. My stomach hasn’t been right since I took this case. I…I can’t do this.”

“But you have been. Every day. And you’ve done a hell of a job.”

He huffs. “But is it good enough? Is it going to be enough? If I fail, I’ll be ruined. And I might already have ruined my personal life too.”

“I don’t understand.”

Rafael stops and pushes a hand through his hair. “I hurt Sonny.”

The doctor is stunned into silence. Rafael keeps going. “The day of the cross burning, I called him. I was having a panic attack and I asked him to come to my office. But he showed up and he startled me when he hugged me and…and…I pushed him. H-He had to catch himself on the desk…”

“You pushed him?”

“Yes, I did. I pushed him and he hasn’t been the same with me since and I think I’ve failed him. Not like that’s new. Not like I should be anything less than a failure.”

“Rafael, you didn’t push him. In your state-“

“No, doc, just listen! Just shut the fuck up for two goddamn minutes and let me talk!” Rafael pounds his fist into the cushions on the back of the grey sofa with every word. The doctor quiets, and trains his gaze on Rafael, though the other man won’t look back at him His head is bent, eyes closed.

“I…I can’t do this…but I can’t _not_ do this either.”

He switches his gaze from the ground to the ceiling, his mouth hanging open as he takes deep breaths.

“I let Liv down when William Lewis walked. I let Sonny down by handing out our home address to save my ego. Now…I can’t let my country down too. I just can’t do that.”

Rafael takes a long minute before he looks at the doctor, who is in turn looking at Rafael. He sighs and takes a seat.

“Okay. Now you can talk.”

“From my vantage point, it sounds like you’re afraid of failure. Which, given the situation, is not an unusual thing.”

“But that’s just it. I don’t know that anything good can come of me winning. What if we win and this plunges the country into a second civil war?”

“I think that’s an exaggeration.”

“Don’t give me that. I had Confederate Nazis stood outside my door. They’re real and they’re angry and Fox news is making sure the whole world knows it.”

“You’ve been watching the news?”

“Just in spurts. Just to know where the court of public opinion stands.”

“Then you should know that they’re the minority. You should especially know that people have poured out in droves to show their support. People are calling you and Rita and Ken heroes.”

Rafael hugs himself. “Heroes” he mutters. “I have a tough time believing that.”

“It’s true though. You’re risking everything you are to do the right thing, and it makes sense why you should be afraid of failing with the stakes so high. But America is on your side. You saw, people held rallies after the cross lighting. And you see it when you come out of court, you see the people with their signs and hear their chants.”

“I know they’re there, but they’re not the ones I’m paying attention to. They’re not the ones I’m worried about trying to assassinate me.”

Rafael rubs his temple, waiting for him to answer. When he doesn’t, Rafael keeps talking.

“This case, even when it’s over, I’m afraid it’ll never be over. I’m so scared that whatever damage I’ve done by taking this case can’t be undone.”

“Politically speaking, I know nothing. But Sonny loves you. I’m sure he doesn’t hold that against you.”

“Then why hasn’t he talked to me since?”

“Not…not a word?”

“Well, some words. Not many. He yelled at me last night. Well, not at me, at all of us. When I finally went to bed he was already asleep. I just held his hand until I fell asleep.”

“You miss him.”

“Because I’m the one that pushed him away. I’ve been overwhelmed and I’ve taken it out on him. I don’t pick up his calls, I don’t open his texts, dammit I can’t remember the last time I told him I loved him.”

“But those are all things you can fix.”

“When? When am I supposed to do that?”

“You have to make the time. Sonny’s important enough for that, isn’t he?”

“Of course he is.” Rafael touches his wedding ring. “He’s my friend. He’s my hero. He’s my everything.”

“Maybe it’s time you stop taking him for granted and start treating him like your husband again.”

Now Rafael twists his ring around on his finger. “It really is. I shouldn’t make this any worse for him than it already is. He’s already never going to be safe again, because of me. I don’t want him to regret me. I’ve never wanted that.”

Rafael rests his face in his hands. It’s even worse hearing someone else say that he hasn’t treated Sonny right. He can’t bring himself to look at anything until his phone starts to buzz in his pocket. Rafael pulls it out.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Rafael nods.

“Answer it.”

And he does. He slides his phone open and brings it to his ear.

“Hi Sonny.”

“Uh…hey. Listen, I know you’re at the doctor but you need to get down to the station now.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes, now. There’s someone here that needs to talk to you.”  

“Right this minute? Who?”

“Uh…I’m honestly not comfortable saying. Can you just get down here? Rita and Ken are already on their way.”

“Fine, I’ll be there soon.”

“Good. See you then.”

“Hey, wait, Sonny? Uh…I love you.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“No, I am. Of course I am. I love you.”

“Okay…I’m sorry. I love you too. See you soon.”

Rafael hangs up and puts his phone away. “I’m sorry doctor, but I have to leave.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I just need to leave.”

“If you want we could finish up this session later-“

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know when I’ll have the time.”

“I hope you’re better at making time for Sonny than you are for me.”

“I promise, I will be. But right now I have to go.” He gets up and shakes the man’s hand before leaving. Elliot stands up when the door opens, his face creasing in worry.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have to go to the station.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now, let’s go.”

****

Ken and Rita are already there, waiting in Liv’s office. Rafael enters and shuts the door behind him, leaving Elliot to stand guard at the door. Liv is there, along with Sonny, his face paler than normal.

“So, what’s so secret that it can’t be said over the phone?” Ken asks. Sonny and Liv trade a hard look.

“We have a new witness. Possibly.” Liv answers.

“Well? Do we or do we not?” Barba asks. “Is their existence conditional?”

“Somewhat.” Sonny answers. “He says he’s the secret service agent that was driving that limousine in the security video.”

They still. The news is sick and heavy and holds onto everything it touches for a few seconds.

“Did he disclose anything to you yet?” Rita asks.

“He insisted on talking to the three of you.” Liv replies.

“Fine. Where is he?” Barba asks. Sonny and Liv nod to each other before she nods her head to the window into the interrogation room, which the blinds are shut over.

The three lawyers walk into the box to see a man, facing out the window. His shoulders rise before he lets out a sigh, and turns to them. Sonny closes the door behind them, and takes his place against the wall.

“Counselors.” The man addresses them in a voice too soft for the tall, sturdy body it comes out of. He removes his glasses and places them in his jacket, revealing bloodshot eyes. “I’m Special Agent Zinmenn. And…And I have something I need to tell you.”

“We’re all ears.” Rafael offers. “Please, sit.”

He does, uneasily, just perching on a chair. Rita and Ken exchange a glance before flanking Barba. Sonny’s right there, just taking it all in. The man folds his hands and stares at them.

“Sunday night. Around eleven. Mogul tells me that he and Hoosier are going to run an errand, and for me to drive. I told him ‘Sir, just wait a minute so I can find my partner.’ But he tells me ‘That’s alright son, you’ll be enough. I was very uncomfortable with that but…well…how could I tell him no?”

He glances at the lawyers, then takes a deep breath.

“I drove them where he said to go, and I was…I parked. And he told me to stay put. I didn’t want to let them in but he insisted I keep the car running.”

He takes another long breath. “I did as I was told. I…I heard the door slam…I heard…her…screaming. Yelling. God, she was begging him to stop. She was still yelling when he told me to drive. I just drove and drove and drove. And then…she stopped…”

He stares up at the ceiling, unable to meet their eyes. “Hoosier opened the partition and told me to pull over hours later. And I did. And he said…he said h-he needed my help, g-getting something out…because…Mogul had thrown his back out…”

The tears come, and he buries his head in his hands. “I left her there…I left her…”

He takes a few slow, shuttering breaths. “I-I wanted to call 911, I promise you I did, I just…I…I was so afraid. I couldn’t- I’m a good agent. I’ve served faithfully for the last two presidents. I’m not supposed to breathe a word of what I see. But I…”

The man finally looks at them straight again. “Is it enough? Will my testimony be enough?”

“Secret Service agent that’s served two previous presidents?” Ken mutters to the two of them. “Clearly he’s credible.”

“And he has no partisan reason to lie.” Rita says into Barba’s other ear. He nods to both of their words.

“You’re willing to testify in open court that you left Johanna Tomkin behind a dumpster with the help of Mike Pence?”

“I will. And I need to tell you something else.”

Their silence tells him to go on.

“Mogul…I brought them back to Trump Tower and he told me to ‘clean up’ the back seat. When I…” He sighs and pushes a hand over his hair. “I knew I couldn’t do it. So I took pictures of the back of the limousine, I found a place for safe keeping, and I left it there.”

“You’ve been sitting on this evidence the entire time?” Ken snaps.

“I know, I _know_ I should have…but I’m here now. Isn’t that enough?”

Rafael glances at the people on either side of him, but they’re both wearing neutral looks.

“If you really did preserve our crime scene, and you can prove it looked how it did the night of the crime, then yes, it could be enough.”

“Here.” Sonny hands over a legal pad and a pen. “Write it all down.”

The man nods to Sonny and picks up the pen, and he begins to write.

“Could we add him to the witness list for tomorrow?” Rafael asks his confidants.

“I’m sure we could get into Judge Barth’s chambers for an appeal. Of course, we’ll have to inform the defense.” Rita answers.

“What can they do? The car is iffy, but the testimony is solid.” Ken answers.

Around and around they go, while the agent’s statement becomes a six page affair. Around page four, Liv opens the door and pulls Sonny out, unnoticed by the lawyers and the new witness.

When Zinmenn caps his pen and hands his statement over, it’s a relief.

“Can you be ready to appear in court tomorrow?” Rafael asks.

“Of course.” He answers, his face soft and sad and his voice drooped. This time there’s a knock on the door before it opens.

“Counselors.” Sonny insists.

The three of them stand and exit, and Rafael’s heart freezes with what he sees next.

“Who are you?”

“We’re Federal Marshalls here to arrest Steven Zinmenn. Has he concluded his business with you?” The dark haired woman holding a pair of handcuffs asks.

“You’re arresting him? On what charges?” Rita asks.

“Among other things, insubordination.” The man with her says, and hands over their warrant. Ken is the one to take the thing, holding it so all three of them can see, while the interlopers stride past them into the holding room.

 _It’s going to be a long night_ Rafael thinks as he reads the warrant, a sharp pressure already building at the base of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, it feels good being creative. But it's left me tired as hell because I've been up all night for the past week.  
> Anyway, hope you guys are having a good Wednesday.


	8. Delayed Confession

 

Rafael’s back arches away from the wooden table beneath him, though his shirt clings to the skin anyway. The heat of his clothes still covering his body, it makes his discomfort stronger.

But the pleasure outweighs it. Every slam of hips against his own makes his body tighten, and he can hear the way Sonny groans.

Rafael’s head falls back over the other side of the table and his eyes open. Everyone watching is upside down and faceless, but hell if he doesn’t know they’re watching him. They’re watching him and _hearing_ the way he can’t stop from letting out curses. A kerosene of embarrassment enflames his desires, making the whole scene that much more intoxicating. Rafael’s back arches again, pushing himself against his husband, taking his unrelenting blows.

“Fuck…fucking…Sonny-“

“Shut up.”

“Sonny, please, I’m-“

“Stop.” His voice is hard, and his hips come to a halt. A whine slips through Rafael’s teeth while he tries pushing harder onto him.

“Sonny, please-“

“No. Just listen to me and fucking stop, okay? Just…just listen to me.”

Rafael opens his eyes and gazes up at his husband. If he had the strength, he would lean up on his elbows, but his body is practically jello.

“Just listen to me. Listen to _me._ _Listen_ to me.”

“I-I’m listening.” Rafael pants. “I’m listening now.”

“Just listen to me.” He repeats with a more familiar softness. “Listen to me, okay? You’re not listening to me. I just want you to listen to me.”

“I am now. I’m listening to you.”

“Okay. Just listen to me. I miss you listening to me.”

“I’m listening now.” Barba repeats, though his throbbing erection make it hard to listen. Sonny’s head dips down, meeting Barba’s so they can kiss. And then a hand is around his member, stroking him.

The jolt of sensation wakes him up, making him gasp for breath. The sheets are stuck to the skin on his arms and neck while his clothes stick to the rest of him.

“Fuck.” He growls when he feels himself pulse. Everything below his waist is tense and ready and god he wants.

“Sonny.” Rafael reaches over and grabs his shoulder, shaking him. “Sonny wake up.”

The younger man groans, trying to pull away.

“Sonny, please wake up, I need you.” His desperate voice comes out too loud for the still  darkness of their bedroom. It jolts Sonny, forcing his eyes open.

“Rafe? You okay?”

“Sonny, I want you. I want you so fucking bad, just take me, please.”

Rafael scoots over, groaning at the slightest friction against his aching member, and leans down to kiss his husband’s neck.

“Rafe…what…?”

“Please Sonny. I’m all worked up and I need you. Please, just fuck me hard and fast, _please._ I need you, I need you so bad-“ he gasps when Sonny moves, straddling him, making his hardness throb again.

“You’re sure?”

“I-I’m sure.” Rafael grasps at his husband’s length, already half hard. “Please, querido, I’m begging you, please.”

“Please what?” His voice is a low growl.

“Please fuck me. Please, I’ll do anything you want.”

“Just get me there, and I’ll fuck you all you want.”

Sonny’s gone, laying on his back once again. Every movement is a struggle, and a growing part of Rafael wants to just rut his hips against the mattress like a horny teenager and finish himself off. The louder part of himself insists on waiting because he knows that once Sonny’s ready, it’s going to be worth the wait.

Rafael closes his lips around his husband’s length. His mouth fills with saliva, and he uses it to his advantage, spreading the fluid for lube. It’s all he’s getting, and he knows by the way his body is tensed that he’s going to be tight. Rafael bobs his head, and his groin tenses with want. He moans around Sonny, while trying to ignore his aching erection.

Sonny’s hand curls into his hair and yanks his head away, leaving Rafael gasping for breath. He’s still panting when Sonny pushes him onto the bed and yanks his pajama bottoms off. Rafael’s still sliding out of his shirt when Sonny thrusts into him, and he cries out in pained ecstasy. He’s tight, but that only makes the tension in his hips worse.

Sonny gives a few test thrusts to work Rafael open before he finds his rhythm: hard, consistent, slamming into Rafael. Even in the darkness, his eyes close.

Sonny’s body works his over, like magic, finding the right rhythm to make everything feel good. Better than he’s felt in weeks. When Sonny’s length finds Rafael’s prostate, it’s like touching a life wire. Rafael’s hips jolt and his back comes off the bed, pushing back against Sonny’s slamming hips. The image Rafael had in his dream, of being watched by hundreds of people, comes flooding into his mind.

It pushes him over the edge, and makes him spill his seed all over his stomach, and Sonny’s. His hips slow.

“D-Don’t…keep going.” Rafael stutters out past the haze of his orgasm.

And Sonny doesn’t need to be told twice. His pace speeds up, still hitting the bundle of nerves hidden inside of Rafael, making his body quake and his mouth let out a string of mewling whines. God, how he wishes he were younger. He’s bathed in the feeling of his over sensitized nerves singing with delight, working towards an orgasm that won’t come.

In the midst of the thrusting and moaning, a few tears slip from Rafael’s eyes.

A burden is lifted off of his chest. The wall between him and his husband is smashed to pieces in the way their bodies meet one another.

There’s some catharsis in Rafael allowing his body to be used after everything he’s put his lover through. In the moment, his body is a token.

A truce.

A reparation.

A peace offering.

An apology. 

And when Sonny falls on top of Rafael, satisfied and breathing heavy, he feels the last shred of distance between them evaporate.

Rafael finds his arm, though he can barely feel his body, and pets his lover’s hair. He misses the longer strands that were there a few weeks ago.

“I’m sorry.” Rafael murmurs.

“Me too.” Sonny replies in his ear.

“For what?”

He feels Carisi shrug. “Not being more understanding.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I did. It’s my fault like usual and-“

Sonny’s lips silence him, pressing against his mouth. His tongue teases him, tracing the outline of the sensitive skin, making it warm and slick.

“We’re okay?” Sonny asks, his mouth still close enough for Rafael to feel move.

“We’re okay.” Rafael agrees. Sonny rolls off of him but pulls him close, his hands warming the skin they find.

“Te amo, mi héroe. Te amo mucho.”

Sonny sighs in relief. “I love you too. I’ve missed that so much.”

“I promise I’ll say it every day from now on. No more neglecting you.”

“Hey, I get it. It’s hard. But, I gotta know, what'd dream me do that got you going so hot you had to wake real me up?"

He smiles a little. "You just...you went a bit caveman."

"Yeah?"

"In front of the whole courtroom. You told me to shut up, and that you wanted everybody to watch."

"Huh"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just didn't know any version of you liked being told to shut up."

He smirks. "That wasn't what got to me though. I was about to orgasm and you told me to stop. And then when I did you just said go listen to you. And I realized again that I haven't.”

“Haven’t what, listened to me?”

“Not even that, I haven’t talked to you. At all. And it just made me understand I've been trying to do this quasi alone, and dammit if it isn't screwing with my head."

"What're you talking about? I've been here."

"Yeah, but here in the capacity to get food and be prepped for trial and treated like a bad piece of furniture that’s in the way no matter where you are. I haven't really listened to you in weeks."

"Well...I haven't helped. But we'll take a vacation after this."

"Might be a permanent one for me."

"Hey, come on, stop. You know you're going to win."

"I felt the same way before election night."

Sonny waits a moment too long before asking. “You wanna do what you did then? Take a couple Benadryl to get you back to sleep?”

“If I do, I’ll never wake up.”

“You need your rest. You need to be at the top of your game for Johanna later.”

“I know, I know. Maybe…can you hold me? Is that okay? Just hold me and maybe I’ll fall back to sleep.”

Sonny pulls the covers up around them and lays back, letting Rafael place his head on his husband’s chest, an ear over his heart. He pets Rafael’s hair until his hand stills, and rests completely against his neck.

 _Don’t let go. Please, don’t let me go_ Rafael thinks, and presses further against his husband’s body, all the while wondering if he’ll hear one of their windows shattering, or a door being smashed open.

****

“The defense calls Agent Steven Zinmenn to the stand.”

“Objection, your honor, this witness’s testimony is more prejudicial than probative.” Marvin Exley makes his voice heard.

“This witness’s testimony” Barba retorts “and the evidence it lead to proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mr. Trump and Mr. Pence committed the crimes they’ve been accused of.”

“Counselors. Everyone, take a deep breath.” Judge Barth insists. “As was decided yesterday, this witness’s testimony, as well as the evidence it led to, are admissible. Now, shall we proceed?”

The man walks into the courtroom, escorted by a uniformed officer. He stands a head above everyone else.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?”

“I do.” The man’s voice rings through the courtroom, his demeanor sure despite the glaring old man and the dozens of cameras trained on his face. Ken rises to his feet

“Mr. Zinmenn, what is your occupation?”

“For the past eleven years I have faithfully served as a Secret Service agent.”

“Could you please, tell the court what happened on the evening of September 3rd, 2017.”

And he does. He speaks with steady, practiced words. The bags under his eyes suggest that he spent all night practicing what to say, but his words don’t waver. He folds his hands and speaks directly to Ken, who doesn’t slow down on the questioning. He corroborates the story about Johanna’s rape, as well as the car, which both video footage (which the courtroom sees at ten times the normal speed)  and forensics prove is the car in question.

“Mr. Zinmenn, please tell the court where you slept last night.”

“After I disclosed to the prosecution, two federal officers arrested me for going rogue.”

“I’m sorry, going rogue?” Ken asks. “Was that term really used?”

“Yes, it was.”

“And so, because you chose to disclose your statement, and evidence related to a criminal act, the withholding of which is in and of itself a crime, you were arrested?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Like you should be! You fucking rat!” Donald Trump bursts out of his seat, but the people sat on either side of him keep him from getting out from behind the table. “You’re a rat! How could you do this? I’m your president!”

The raps of the gavel startle everyone, almost as much as the outcry.”

“Mr. Trump, sit down and be quiet.”

“Why should I?”

“Because, if you have one more episode in my courtroom you will be held in contempt and your bail will be revoked. Do I make myself clear?”

Cohen pops out of his seat too and says something into his ear that makes him pause.

“Fine.” He sits down. Elena leans forward in her seat, looking Trump dead in the eye.

“Mr. Trump, I promise you, you will not be free from the consequences of your actions one more time in this courtroom. You will be quiet and you will stay in your seat. We will no longer be taking breaks between witnesses to be spared your tantrums.”

“Your honor with all due respect, your comments are out of line.”

“No, Mr. Logansworth, your client’s behavior is out of line. I’ve tolerated enough horsing around in my courtroom, and frankly I’m sorry I let it get this far. As I’ve told you before, control your client.”

Ken stands, his face neutral, hiding his glee at seeing Trump be reamed out in front of everyone. His voice reveals nothing when he’s given the cue to continue.

Rita questions Johanna, who’s eyes keep wandering to the gallery. In the front row, in front of the reporters and photographers, are the two detectives that took her case. And sat next to one of the detectives is Johnny Dubcek, who’s held still by the grace of God and the miracle of half a Xanex. And beside him are John and Elliot who she doesn’t know, but does recognize because they’ve been there every day of trial.

Rafael isn’t watching Johanna, even during cross. Rita is in charge of issuing the objections while Rafael keeps throwing glances at the defense’s side. He can’t miss the way Mike Pence fidgets with his hands and keeps his gaze down. He looks…embarrassed? Or pained. Or some combination of both.

The next recess taken is the one that’s supposed to be taken: the one for lunch. Before Rafael can gather his papers, Marvin Exley is at their table.

“Counselors, a word?”

“Unless the word is ‘lunch’-“

“Barba, please. My client would like a word with you.”

The three of them trade confused looks.

“Your client is…?”

“Mr. Pence. He would like to testify for the prosecution.”

The amused scoffs are quelled with some thoughtful silence.

“We don’t require his testimony.” Barba answers. “The jury has been shown enough evidence to convict them both.”

“Look, I know you want to win this case, but this case isn’t about Mr. Pence. He’s not the one you three _really_ want, is he?”

“Fine, Exley.” Rafael answers. “He has ten minutes to talk to us.”

“That’s all you’ll need.”

Barba looks at his co-councils, giving them his ‘this should be good’ look before leading the way out of the courtroom, ignoring as always the cameras that follow them until they’re out the door. The three lawyers, along with Exley and Pence slip into an empty office.

“Make this quick, Mr. Pence. You want to testify for the defense now?” Barba takes the lead as usual.

“In exchange for a plea deal.” Marvin Exley insists. “What are you prepared to offer?”

Rafael huddles with his other two lawyers. “If we drop him to rape three two to four.” Ken says.

“Why go so low?” Rita asks. “We’re going to get him on rape one. Why not just drop him to rape two?”

“Rape three puts him on the registry. If it’ll make him chatty and keep him for the minimum, that’s doable.” Rafael says.

They break apart and Rafael looks at the two men.

“Rape three, you do the maximum of four years, testify after lunch, and you don’t have to be part of the circus anymore.”

“Oh please, Mr. Barba. Rape is still a felony. This feels more like sexual misconduct.”

“For almost killing a woman? Not a chance.”

“Sexual misconduct. He goes on the registry, he gives his testimony, you get to save face.”

“We don’t need to save face.” Rafael’s voice is firm, his gaze hard on Exley. “The jury was already heavily swayed, but now? After listening to a Secret Service Member testify that he helped ‘Hoosier’ get rid of her body because ‘Mogul’ threw his back out during the rape? A man who served Bush Junior and Obama? No, I don’t think so.”

“Just give them what they want!” Pence snaps. “It doesn’t matter at this point.”

“Huh. Funny. This whole time you’re quiet as a church mouse but the moment the white guy tells you how bad this is in passing, you listen? Or was it the other white guy testifying against you that really made you understand? Ken asks.

“I can assure you-“ Mike tries, but Ken cuts him off.

“Save the crap, nobody believes you anyway. You’re a politician.”

“Yes, but before I was a politician I was a lawyer.”

“Yes, and no wonder people don’t trust lawyers, if they think it’s short leap for us to turn into _you._ ”

“Alright, gentlemen.” Mr. Exley says. “His word is still good in court.”

“Only if it can be corroborated. Can it?” Rafael asks.

Exley looks at Pence, who nods.

“Rape three, he does the minimum.”

“Rape three, he does the max, and he gets ten years probation.”

“In a federal penitentiary, because of his status.”

“Fine.” Rafael says, before looking at Pence. “Start talking. If you give us something of use, the deal is yours.”

****

“The people call Mike Pence to the stand.” Rafael announces to the shock of the collected group. A buzz of chatter fills the courtroom, only to be muted by Elana’s gavel, while Mr. Pence takes his walk.

Ken resists rolling his eyes when he’s sworn in before getting up.

“Let the record show that Mr. Pence is agreeing to testify as part of a plea deal.” Ken begins. “In exchange for his testimony and his admission of guilt, his charges have been downgraded. Now, Mr. Pence, would you please tell us what transpired on the night of September 3rd?”

He takes a deep breath and looks at Ken, because he can’t look at anything or anyone else.

“It was getting late, later than he’s usually awake.”

“He who?” Ken asks. “Just to be sure.”

“Donald Trump. Usually he’s in bed by nine, nine thirty, but it was already ten and he was still awake. He told me how mad he was about the leak.”

“What leak?”

“The leak of Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump’s tax returns.”

“You mean the leak that had taken place two days before?”

“Yes, that leak. He was steaming mad, and just kept going on and on about it. And then he got an email from the person he calls his ‘tech guy’ saying it confirmed who’s computer the leaks originated from.”

“People’s exhibit R, the email sent to Mr. Trump on September 3rd, opened at 10:19 p.m. Mr. Pence, could you please read the highlighted text?” Ken hands over the copy of the document he took off the prosecution’s table. The white haired man clears his throat.

“…due to the digital markers left behind, it is our expert conclusion that the documents, while originating from the computer of Ms. Tomkin, were extracted from her hard drive via a virus.”

“Did Mr. Trump make any indication to you that he had read this far into the email?”

“No. He just kept saying ‘that rat, that greedy, leaking rat’. He said he wanted to teach her a lesson.”

“And so what did you do?”

“I went with him. He…he was so angry…I was worried he would do something stupid.”

“What help were you? You went with him and he still did something stupid.”

“Objection.” Mr. Cohen throws out.

“Withdrawn.” Ken replies. “Mr. Pence, what happened next?”

“He found out in the email what the address of the place was. And he enlisted one of the Secret Service agents to drive us. When we arrived, we found Ms. Tomkin sat at her desk. He began yelling at her, then struck her over the head with a paperweight to try and subdue her.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, really. I was so…it was as though I was having an out of body experience. Nothing we did felt real. Even when we left her, it didn’t seem real.”

“But what you did was real. You did indeed rape Johanna Tomkin and leave her for dead behind a dumpster, did you not?”

“I did. We did. We took turns using her body, but I understand now how wrong what I did was.”

“And what did you think was going to happen?”

“Again, everything felt like it was happening to someone else.”

In the half hour it takes for Ken to wrangle the confession out of Mike Pence, Barba remembers just why he called Kenneth. The man is a ruthless and hostile, and he doesn’t let anything slide. A few of his jabs at Pence make the assembled group laugh, but Rafael doesn’t dare let himself do the same. He just silently applauds in his mind, before nodding to Ken when he sits down. This segment alone has made him worth all the smartass comments and bitter tone.

But that’s not the part of the Mike Pence’s testimony that people react to. Not really. No, it’s in the middle of his cross examination, when Sofia Crane is in the middle of picking apart his credibility. She’s doing such an exquisite job, and it makes Rafael angry that she’s there because she’s actually a decent lawyer and not just because SVU has a grudge against her, when a childish voice interrupts her.

“Sweetheart, what’re you doing? You’re letting him get away with slandering me!”

Judge Barth slams her gavel, her face pulled broad in shock. Roger puts a hand on his shoulder, making him quiet.

“Sorry, Counselor Crane.”

“Thank you, your honor. Now, Mr. Pence-“

Rafael is salivating by the time it’s over. He knows what comes next. He’s rearing to sink his claws into Donald Trump, and ready to let his big mouth do the work.

They go down the line. Rafael gets the first crack, then Rita, then Ken.

And then they start over.

Rafael taunts him about his financial situation, asking just why those tax returns were so sensitive to him.

Rita jabs at his macho attitudes while simultaneously questioning all of his disgusting behavior with women, including the “if my she wasn’t my daughter I’d be dating her” incident.

Ken has the least qualms about letting his emotions show the second time around. He’s very clearly enjoying watching Donald Trump flounder for words. When he turns to reclaim his seat, Rafael catches a full view of his smirking face.

Rafael is out of his seat before Ken is in his own, making the seamless transition.

“Mr. Trump, in the time you’ve sat on the witness stand you’ve vacillated between claiming that you never had sex with Johanna Tomkin and that the sex you had with her was consensual. Please, take a moment to remember that you are under oath and have been this entire time before answering my question. At this moment, do you claim that you did not have sex intercourse with Johanna Tomkin or that the intercourse you had with her was consensual?”

“I mean, really, who could say who had sex with who? That was such a crazy night.”

“Oh no, no Mr. Trump. You did not have sex with Johanna Tomkin. Sex requires two consenting parties. One person taking the other against their will is rape.”

“Well how would you know if she consented? You weren’t there.”

“No, but Mr. Pence was. And he testified just” he glances at his watch “an hour and fifty eight minutes ago that the two of you kidnapped Johanna Tomkin, and raped her. Likewise, Agent Zinmenn defied Federal Law to testify here today.”

“Really? You’re going to believe that snake over me? That guy planted evidence, he made the whole thing up.”

“Mr. Trump, how did he get your semen then?”

“I dunno. Must’ve manufactured them somehow.”

“You still have yet to answer my question.”

“What question? Oh, yeah. No, we just had a crazy night. You’re a guy, you know how it is, sometimes you just gotta blow off some steam.”

“By raping a women and letting your accomplice have sloppy seconds?”

“No, not rape. God, have you people listened to a single thing I’ve said?”

“Have you?” Rafael asks, eyebrows quirked.

“Objection.” Sofia Crane throws out.

“Withdrawn.” He shakes his head. “So what are you claiming happened?”

“I’m not claiming anything. I’m telling you, like I’ve told you all day, that we just had some rough sex.”

“After which, your two accomplices left her behind a dumpster?”

“It was part of the game. She said she wanted it.”

“When? Because there’s no record of you calling her either on her work line or her cell phone. No text messages, no emails, no tweet or facebook message or what have you to corroborate your claim. How did you do that?”

“I don’t feel comfortable telling you that.”

“Mr. Trump, you are under oath. Or are you unfazed by the idea of perjury?”

“Please. It’s just private is all. This whole thing is private.”

“And yet we’ve spoken to the last six sexual partners she had before the assault, and the one after, and nobody, _nobody_ has told us she enjoyed rough sex.”

The orange man scoffs and looks at the jury. “Are you hearing this? She had sex after all this and she’s still pretending she was raped?”

Rafael’s silent. The whole courtroom is silent. Even the reporters’ cameras seem to shut up for a moment.

“Are you saying survivors of sexual assault are incapable of having fulfilling physical love lives?”

“Look, I’m just saying, if you can still have sex after, how traumatized can you possibly be?”

Rafael stops and looks up at the ceiling. He doesn’t see the way his co-counselors are staring aghast.

“Of course you would think that.” He says half to himself, and half to the jury. Then he locks in, staring the old man down. “Because sexual assault ruins people, does it not? Or is that just you that ruins people.”

“I never said that. You’re putting words in my mouth. Again. I tell you, you lawyers-”

“No? You never said that? From the People’s Exhibit M, a tweet sent out the day before the trial began.” Sonny can feel how Rafael wants to read the idiotic words in his impression. “Very bad move guys. These people are making bad choices going against me. I ruin anyone who tries to cross me. You’ll see.”

Rafael cocks his head when he looks up from the screen. “These are your words, Mr. Trump. Which you wrote, and posted on your own account.”

“Objection, relevance?”

“Your honor, we went through three hearings to get the entirety of Mr. Trump’s twitter account admitted as evidence.” Rita speaks up from her place at the table, behind the computer containing all the tweets, including the one Rafael just read.

“That’s impeding my free speech! You’re taking away my first amendment rights!”

“Mr. Trump if you knew the first thing about the U.S. Constitution you would know that the First Amendment protects you from government censorship and being persecuted for speaking contrary to the government. It does _not_ protect you or anybody else from the consequences of their words.”

“Man, Little Rafael Babra sure has a problem with me today, huh?”

Three hard raps of the gavel make everyone shut up, and make Donald flinch since they’re right next to his ear. He turns to look at the judge, who’s eyes are wide and angered.

“Mr. Trump, you will show respect to your prosecutors. I won’t tolerate such juvenile behavior in my courtroom.” She sighs before looking at Rafael. “The objection is overruled, by the way. And I’m sorry, Counselor Barba.”

He keeps his face straight. “It’s quite alright, Your Honor. I’m not so thin skinned. Besides, I can handle facts. Can you, Mr. Trump?”

“Oh please, you don’t know the real facts.”

“Yes, I actually do. You seem to be operating under the guise of alternative facts.”

“Hey, they’re still facts. It’s right in the name.”

“No, in fact. Your ideas about the truth are complete falsehoods. Do you understand that every other witness we’ve seen has more credibility than you do? A secret service member broke rank to tell us the truth, along with providing credible evidence.”

“Wrong.”

“Wrong?” Barba laughs. “No, Mr. Trump, it’s not wrong. How can you possibly dismiss multiple pieces of solid evidence, admitted by this court, as well as witnesses who put you with Johanna Tomkin? This is unbiased evidence. What can you possibly say to refute that?”

“It’s a liberal conspiracy! They’re trying to get me out of office so they can use Paul Ryan as a ploy, even though he’s best friends with Democrats. They want me out because they can’t handle the truth!”

The gavel bangs hard enough that Rafael’s afraid Judge Barth will break it. “Mr. Trump, need I remind you that this is indeed a real courtroom, not…Judge Judy. I’m growing tired of your childish outbursts. There is no conspiracy here. One more improper outburst and your bail _will_ be revoked, you _will_ be remanded to Rikers.”

“Listen here sweetheart, you can’t send me to Rikers.”

“Funny. I just did. Bail is revoked, you will be remanded at the conclusion of today’s proceedings. Continue, Mr. Barba.”

“What?!”

“Thank you.” Rafael says, and looks right at him again. “So, Mr. Trump, if you don’t want to talk about Mike Pence or Steven Zinmenn or Johnny Dubcek, let’s talk about your tweet again.”

“You have no way of knowing I posted that.”

“Mr. Trump, you typed those words. You misspelled the word people as ‘peopel’, something you’ve done in several other tweets.”

“Well how can I remember all that? I say so many words in a day, how can I remember all of them?”

“Are you questioning your ability to remember when you said what you said? A job which the internet has done for you, by the way. Or your understanding of spelling basic English words? Either way, it seems you need to revoke your claim of having a ‘very good brain.’”

“Objection.” Cohen speaks up “insulting the witness.”

“Withdrawn. So, Mr. Trump, what did those words mean?” Rafael asks, though they can all hear he knows the answer already.

“Uh…I…”

“What, Mr. Turmp? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I…I really am very tired” he looks to the judge, then at Barba. “It’s been a long day, a lot of things have happened. I just don’t feel up to finishing this right now.”

“Your honor, the defense would like to request a continuance.” Roger Logansworth follows a moment later

“It’s quite alright, your honor. If Mr. Trump lacks the stamina to conclude his testimony during today’s proceedings, the prosecution” he glances at his colleagues, who wear agreeing looks “has no qualms about granting a continuance until tomorrow morning.”

“Very well. Court is adjourned until tomorrow at noon. Bailiff, take the defendant into holding.”

The man makes his ruckus while being dragged away, and Roger Logansworth yells over the din that he’ll get him out.

Barba ignores the circus. In the middle of packing his papers, he looks up to search for his husband. His gaze rests on those gorgeous blue eyes, his face held in a neutral position.

He gives a slow, solitary nod before Rafael’s view of Sonny is obstructed by Rita, who’s wearing a proud smirk.

“Well, they’re going to have plenty to say about that tonight, won’t they?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've been nonstop writing the last two days and my hands are aching but I really want to finish both stories I'm working on.   
> Also, heads up, the other one is going to be multi chapter because oops, I can't write anything under ten thousand words.   
> Hope you guys have a good weekend!


	9. Sanguine Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic violence

Rafael and Sonny’s apartment is empty of guests by quarter of ten. The apartment is quiet, clean, and relaxed. Maybe not relaxed, just more of a resigned haze.

Rafael comes into their bedroom ready to go take his shower. Sonny is already under their comforter, but the TV is playing.

“What are you watching?” Rafael asks while he gathers up his pajamas.

“Nothing yet. Waiting for Bill Maher.”

“Bill Maher? On a Thursday?”

“He’s been covering every day of the trial.”

“And… you’ve been watching?”

“Sure. It’s the only laughing I’ve done in weeks.”

Rafael shrugs at that before going into the bathroom. The shower cleanses him, washes the day off of his skin. Well, the surface layer of the day. The stress that it’s brought with him lingers in his shoulders and in his chest, but still he feels better when he returns.

The show’s theme begins just as he’s coming out of the bathroom. Rafael lays his suit out over the chair in the corner of their room and sits down on the end of the bed to watch the grey haired man who comes onto the stage while his crowd cheers him on.

“Yes, yes I know why you’re all so happy” he says over his audience’s roar. “It’s because-“ he breaks off to laugh while they’re still quieting down. “It’s because you all got to watch Mike Pence try to save his skin, after realizing just how fucked he was.”

Again his audience screams, and the personality man laughs. “No, no it really came from watching a ‘so called judge’” the man does his Donald Trump imitation “revoke the Donald’s bail and make him spend a night in jail.”

More cheers. A smile pulls at Rafael’s mouth.

“Oh no, no, no, I know why you guys are so upbeat. It’s because you got to watch everyone’s favorite trio rip apart Agent Orange in front of the whole world.”

More cheers, but this time Bill uses his hands to try and quiet them.

“Y’know, I gotta tell you, I am in _love_ after today. I thought it would turn into love while I was watching the pre-trials when everyone and their mother was talking about who these lawyers are and what their track records are like, but today just sealed the deal. I mean, really, it’s impossible to not be at least a little bit in love with one of them.”

“I don’t know who I love most. On the one hand you’ve got Kenneth O’Dwyer, you know, ‘the white guy’ as Trump has dubbed him, who took special pleasure in crucifying Mike Pence even though he was testifying for the defense. I swear, that man doesn’t let a damn thing slide. Pence couldn’t get anything to slip past Ken O’Dwyer even if he used one of those gallon jugs of lube you buy at Costco for forty dollars.”

The married couple chuckles lightly.

“But you know, then we have Rita ‘the obnoxious woman’ Calhoun, who just kept tripping Trump again and again. And of course now everyone knows why he has such a grudge against her. Not like we didn’t _already_ know. I mean, really, a woman who’s an Ivy League educated lawyer,  who knows her shit inside and out and refuses to let him get away with anything? Of course he hates women like that, he lost the popular vote to one.”

Sonny “oooh”s at that before he laughs, and Rafael smirks to himself, wondering if she’s watching this too.

“No, no, you know what? As much as I love them, it doesn’t compare to how I feel about Rafael Barba. Holy shit- after today? God, I would suck him dry after the performance he put on today.”

The audience is already laughing before he even finishes his line, and so is Sonny.

“I mean really, did you guys see? That was- well, I probably shouldn’t say things like that about the guy, since he is, y’know, married to a cop. Sorry about that if you guys are watching. But come on, really, did you guys see today? Holy crap, I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm that big in front of my TV since I stopped renting porn on DVD.”

Again, Sonny laughs. Rafael scoffs and rolls his eyes, though he’s deeply amused by this man as always.

“We’re going to get in depth about today- especially about Trump’s piss poor attempt at testifying- but can I just say this? This goddamn guy, Rafael Barba? He came up with the best line to end the day. You know, once Trump is backed into a corner that he really has no way out of, he does the little bitch thing and whines about how he’s tired. And- well, let’s just roll the clip.”

And the screen is taken up by the replay of the end of the trial. _Huh. I guess that shirt and that pocket square are two different shades of red_ Rafael thinks as he watches himself make the stamina comment again. When the screen cuts back to Bill, the man clasps his hand over his chest.

“I turned into a millennial today when I literally screamed “I CAN’T EVEN WITH THIS GUY” because really, I fucking can’t. Rafael Barba, I’m gonna say it again, if you’re watching this, although really why should you be when you have better things to do, please come on the show. Really, I want to hear all about just how much fun it was to face down Putin’s cockholster in person.”

“He’s said that every night of the trial.” Sonny tells him.

“Huh.” Rafael mulls that over before crawling up in the bed to get under the covers. Rafael hopes weeks of sleep deprivation will finally be appeased by an early night. Sonny knows it, because he turns the television down very low.

And Rafael is lulled off, even with the TV and one of the bedroom lights on, but he’s woken up a few hours later in a cold sweat to his darkened room. He has no memory of why he’s woken up, and he’s still so tired that he can’t stay awake.

When he wakes up hours later, it’s with a specific image thrumming through his brain. A lynch mob, chasing after him. People screaming his name. And his useless legs refusing to let him run.

Again it happens, Rafael being jolted from his sleep with a scream. He reaches out for Sonny and clings onto him, his eyes shutting tight.

“Shh, you’re alright babe.” Sonny mumbles. Rafael’s grip tightens on him, taking comfort in the expanses of bare skin under his hands.

“You’re alright. You’re alright.” Rafael’s voice trembles as he focuses on Sonny. “You’re alright…”

He buries his nose in his lover’s shoulder, trying so hard not to cry. Not to wake up Sonny more than he needs to be. His head throbs and so does his chest, and the tempest of his sleep cycle has mercy on him, pulling him under before he can think about watching his lover be killed in front of him any longer.

When he wakes the final time, a little after five, Rafael’s drenched in sweat. He drags himself out of bed and douses himself in a cold shower despite it being fifty degrees outside his window. It leaves him shivering when he steps out of the shower. But it staves off his sweats, and gives him enough time to quiet his screaming brain.

_It’s almost over. It’s almost over. It’s almost over._

****

 “In the four days of these proceedings, you’ve watched Mr. Trump show blatant disregard for the decorum of the court room, as well as total, undeniable disrespect towards Counselor Calhoun, Judge Barth, and even his own defense attorney Counselor Crane. All while on trial for a crime which shows the epitome of this man’s misogyny. When you look at the evidence of this case, you must put out of your mind any politics relating to this situation, but instead think of this man in terms of his crimes. Despite how it may appear at times, America is a land where the law applies to all. When you remember this fundamental principal of the American judicial system, and take it in conjunction with the evidence presented to you, you will find that you have no choice but to find the defendant guilty.”

Barba nods to the jury before taking his seat at the end of the table. He sees, in the corner of his gaze, that Rita is side-eyeing him. He glances over to see her give him a slight smile, then sees her fingertips gently tapping against the palm of her free hand. A silent applause.

Rafael’s glad for that distraction. It gives him something to think about besides the dragging closing statement that Roger Logansworth gives, which is twice as long as Rafael’s.

 _He’s stalling._ Rafael thinks as he watches the man return to his seat. The man who will look at nobody.

The jury leaves, and immediately Rafael’s overwhelmed with nerves. For all his posturing and reassurances, he couldn’t get a read on the jury. He saw three people of color, five women, and at least two men with wedding bands. He hopes they’ll think of their wives, or their children, if they have any.

He has no idea what to expect. And the gut wrenching fear that he’s held back for days returns in the form of nausea. If he had something in his stomach, he’d probably throw up.

The three lawyers leave together, but once they’re out the door they part ways. Barba waits for Sonny, who takes him by the hand and pulls him off to the side. He hugs Barba.

Barba hugs him back. The two of them have a semi-private moment.

“No matter what happens, you did the right thing.” Sonny murmurs.

Rafael nods before reporters find their way over, with their clicking cameras and jabbing of microphones. Sonny wraps an arm around Rafael and walks him away from the situation, hiding him away in a conference room.

Time crawls by. Rafael feels like he’s watching the clock. Every time he checks his phone, half as much time has passed as he thinks.

Nine becomes ten.

Ten becomes eleven.

Sonny leaves to get food, and Rafael can hear John and Elliot’s voices outside the door, though he can’t hear their words.

Twelve becomes one. Then two. Then three.

Nothing is a reasonable distraction. This isn’t like Rafael’s wedding day, when he could think about what would happen next with certainty. All he knows is there will be an answer. Guilty, not guilty, deadlocked.

The word makes his stomach turn. He can see them going through all this again. Not a chance in hell is the DA going to let this go.

3:39, and the conference room door opens.

“Jury’s back.” Liv tells them, and closes the door for them. Sonny reaches over and takes Rafael’s hand, squeezing it tight.

“Let’s go.”

Rafael’s still, and Sonny waits for him to take the lead. He does, but stalls when he reaches the courtroom doors. He doesn’t protest when Sonny’s lank arms enwrap him in comfort.

Sonny holds Rafael close for a long minute, rubbing his back, just being there for him. Rafael pulls away and gives Sonny a sure nod, though he looks pale, before going back into the courtroom. Sonny finds his seat with his fellow officers. His hands are sweating.

His stomach is turning over itself in knots.

“Jury foreman, please rise.” Judge Barth asks. “Have you reached a verdict?”

“Yes.”

“What say you.”

The panic washes over the detectives. 

And the prosecutors. They’re stock still.

“We find the defendant”

There’s no real pause, but that single second between words makes Rafael want to scream.

“guilty on all counts.”

“What? What!?” The orange man jumps up out of his seat. Judge Barth strikes her gavel once again.

The relief that follows is burning cold, like the shock of air after leaving a bath. It’s almost painful. Rafael’s hands shake a little, which is why he keeps them down on the table.

“Members of the jury, the State of New York thanks you for your service.”

“Traitors! You fucking traitors! All of you, all of you are rats!” Trump screams while his lawyers try to calm him

 “Officers, take the defendant.”

“Are you kidding?!” He screams. “Do you know who I am!? I will destroy you all! I will! I will ruin you all!”

The panic, the fear, and the overwhelming relief culminate in a kind of aggressive joy. When Barth dismisses the court, all three of the lawyers are out of their seats. They’re shaking hands, but they want to be hugging. They’re not sure what they’re saying, but they can hear a similar exclamation going on behind them.

Munch and Elliot slip out of the burgeoning festivities to get the car, knowing they’ll need it.

“You did it!” Carisi pulls Barba away from the other lawyers and wraps him up in a hug, pulling him up off the ground. “You did it! You did it babe, you did it!!”

“We did it. We did it, we did it.” He repeats, breathless. “Oh my god, it worked! It actually happened! We did it! Oh god, it’s over. It’s all over.”

 _No it’s not_ the rational part of Barba reminds himself, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a fuck about the political fallout. Donald Trump and Mike Pence are in jail. He can live with another three years of Boy Wonder Paul Ryan. He doesn’t care.

It’s over. The national nightmare is over, and he had a hand in it, and in that moment he’s beyond proud of it.

It’s a giddiness that sweeps over them all. They forget about any real world consequences.

But they do want to celebrate. It’s not hard to agree on a place, one they all know just a few blocks over.

They group together, with the cops closing ranks around the lawyers. Even in the excitement, they remember that much.

The media circus seems, somehow, worse than before. Worse than all the other days. So many more microphones and cameras. They smile for them, but they don’t speak.

They don’t plan on speaking.

But Kenneth overhears someone ask “How do you want today to be remembered?”

He stops, and the rest of the group stops around them, the media closing in.

“Today?” Kenneth asks. “Today, this day in history, when it is looked at again in twenty years, fifty years, a hundred years. This will be the day that truly reaffirms the closing line of the United States’ Pledge of Allegiance. ‘With Liberty and Justice for all.’ The precedent set here today is one of justice, regardless of age, race, gender, or class, and will not soon be forgotten. The search for truth-”

The other two lawyers are beaming at those words, both wishing they’d thought of something that smart to say.

Nobody sees the gun.

But everyone hears the shots.

Four, one right after the other.

And two more shots. One from Liv, the other from Sonny. One in the head, the other in the chest. He’s easy to pick out when everyone around them hits the ground.

The lawyers are on the ground too. Ken is screaming, doubled over in pain. Rita is silent, eyes closed. And Rafael is clutching his chest, his eyes blown wide. Sonny picks him up, his adrenalin pumping, and runs with him back into the courthouse. Liv grabs Rita, her dead weight stable enough to carry. Fin and Amanda need to partner up to take Ken, who’s still screaming.

“Don’t talk!” Amanda yells at him, though it won’t make him calm.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Sonny yells before laying Rafael on the floor. The older man is staring up at Sonny, his eyes flickering everywhere while he gasps for breath. He chokes for breath that he can’t find, and he reaches up to grab at Sonny.

“Shhh, shh it’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” Sonny says, and pulls off his jacket to stop the blood flowing out of his chest.

There’s so much blood. It’s everywhere. It’s inescapable. The navy fabric turns black.

Rafael’s gasps grow faster, shallower, before he lets out a sick gurgling noise.

Sonny forces him to sit up so he doesn’t aspirate on his own blood coming out of his mouth and nose. One hand on his back, the other on his wound, pressing the two together.

It’s all Sonny can do, but he knows what’s happening. Rafael’s drowning in his own blood. Even when he coughs it up, leaving bright red splotches on the ground and on both their clothes, it doesn’t stop.

Liv looks up from where she’s pressing her own jacket against Rita’s neck wound and catches sight of them. She hears Sonny cooing to him telling him he’ll be okay even while she hers the sick splat of liquid hitting the linolium. She flinches when another cry comes from O’Dwyer. Amanda is putting all her weight on his stomach, while Fin tries saying something.

 _Where are the medics?_ Liv thinks when she moves to put pressure on Rita’s shoulder wound.

She holds back a flinch when she feels the hot liquid soaking in around her knees. She realizes, a moment later, that her chest wound is also a back wound. The bullet went straight through her.

The medics rush in, finally, pushing the detectives out of the way. Ken screams, this time for his mother, when he’s pulled onto a stretcher.

Liv can’t bear to leave Rita- silent, bleeding, possibly near death- alone with the medics. She can’t let this go.

When she says “I’m riding along” they can’t protest.

They can’t keep Carisi away either. As shallow as Barba’s breathing is already, it gets even worse when he’s put on a stretcher, and he’s so weak that he can’t lift his head enough to find Sonny. Not until they’re in the back of a bus. His pale face, stained with blood spatter and the beginnings of tears, hangs over Barba.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” He strokes his hair. “You’re going to be okay.”

Rafael feels himself shaking, but he tries again to reach for Carisi. Carisi takes his hand for him, holds it tight. One of their hands is covered in blood, but they can’t tell whos. Maybe it’s both.

Barba can’t scream when one of the paramedics cuts into his chest, into his lung, and forces a tube into his lung. The blood comes pouring out, and Rafael feels the pressure lift from his chest, finally letting him breathe.

“See, baby? You’re okay. You’re okay. You can breathe now, you’re going to be okay.” He keeps going while the two men around them try to work him over. They’re saying…something, to each other. Rafael can’t make out what. He feels a burning in his chest, it comes out of nowhere and grips him so fully that he has to shut his eyes. The tears that come out seem to burn too.

Sonny can hear the words, but they’re all huge and scary. They’re all words he doesn’t fully let his brain chew over. He just stares down at his husband, wearing a reassuring smile, telling Rafael that he’ll be okay.

And then, they’re at the hospital. The doors of the ambulance open, and Rafael’s gone before they can figure out goodbyes. He’s left there, bereft and bloodied, sat in the back of a still running vehicle. He manages, somehow, to pick up his ruined jacket, and puts it over his arm.

His steps are slow, deliberate, and careful to avoid the pools of blood in the ambulance. He’s sure he’s still leaving footprints when he walks on the asphalt. There are two other ambulances, with their lights flashing in their doors open, all empty. He takes the steps into the building slow, though the light is a bit harsh. Too much for his weary eyes.

“Sir?” A nurse comes over, and her hand flies to his neck, checking his pulse. “Sir, are you injured?”

“Uh…” he blinks. His mouth is dry. “No. No, I’m okay. Um…Rafe’s gonna need blood.” He points in the direction he saw the stretcher go, revealing his grey shirt sleeve is incredibly soaked with blood. “He’s O+ but I’m O-. Where can I go to do that?”

She stares at him before her brain catches up with the situation, and her ponytail bobs when she nods.

“Sure, sure, it’s out that door and to the right.”

His gaze follows to the door, but he doesn’t see it.

“Do you want me to take you?”

“Yeah…yeah, please.” He’s so gone he can’t even nod. He lets himself be led, lets himself be pricked, and lets himself be bandaged up. They put a cup of juice in his hand, and don’t let him get up until he’s drank it.

“I guess I’m just waiting now.” He says, blinking at this other nurse that’s with him now.

“Very well. Waiting room is back where you came and to the right.”

“Uh…I’m sorry, I-I don’t know how I got here.”

“You don’t know how you got here?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. Sonny finds it in himself to shake his head. The other man shakes his head and leads Sonny, walking quickly to an open room where Liv is already waiting for him.

She gets up and goes to him, and he opens his mouth to greet her, but nothing comes out.

He falls on her, making her support his weight.

He starts to cry. The kind of crying that’s silent, just body shaking and lungs gasping for breath. And, when he can manage, he screams a sob. It jolts the passing doctor and it makes Liv’s ear start to ring, but it can’t be stopped now.

“It happened again!” He sobs, his hands clutching at her blouse, just like Rafael tried to hold onto him. “It happened again! It happened again!”

“Carisi…” She tries, but it’s no use. She can’t stop his heartbreak. She pulls him over to sit on the couch, and lets him rest on her. He cries on her shoulder, the tears smearing the blood stains on his face. They don’t do much about his clothes.

He sobs, in a way that everyone can hear it.

She rubs his back, letting him cry while she tries to hold back her own tears.

_First Dodds, then Carisi, and now Barba? Why do I keep letting people get shot?_

She holds his shoulders tighter. _If Barba…this one is on me. I should’ve kept pushing. Why the hell did Ken want to talk to reporters?_

There’s nothing she can do besides let Carisi cry himself. She thinks he’s asleep, even though he’s just resting his eyes.

She hopes he’s asleep. She hopes he’s having a dream about something better than where they are.

Rollins and Fin show up, but they don’t have words. They’re all still covered in blood. There’s no word from the doctors.

Rollins gives Liv a long look before they maneuver so Rollins is in her place, with the man leaning on her shoulder. He still pretends to be asleep, because he wants so badly to be. His eyes only open when he hears an unfamiliar voice.

“Oh wow, look at this, you seem to be resting comfortably. Good job today, really, excellent work.”

The man speaking is tall, with a day or two of scruff, wearing a suit jacket over his jeans and t-shirt. He walks further into the room, and Sonny picks up on the way he favors one leg.

“Excuse me?” Liv asks, getting to her feet. “Who the hell are you?”

“Greg Hilson. Also known as ‘married to the guy you let get shot’. Seriously, bravo on that. What, you couldn’t get them the rest of the thirty feet to the car without incident?”

“Hey, don’t talk to the lieutenant like that.” Sonny speaks up, sitting up out of Amanda’s grasp.

“Oh boo fucking hoo, like I’m so concerned about her feelings. And what about you?” The older man walks over, staring Carisi down. “You should know better. But no, even after you see someone light a cross in front of your husband’s office building, it’s a stretch to imagine anyone taking a shot at him.”

“I don’t like your attitude.” Sonny’s guard goes up, and he stands.

“I don’t like your idiocy.”

 “Well maybe if Ken hadn’t stopped to talk to those reporters we wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe if you’d just gotten them to the car like you should’ve they wouldn’t have had such a clear shot.”

“Don’t you put this on me!”

“Who the hell else should I put it on! All week you’re in the thick of it and you don’t have the brains to know one neo-Nazi must have a gun?”

“Shut the hell up.” Sonny shoves the man.

“Keep your hands off me.” The older man shoves back. Sonny snaps, his hands pressing into the man’s shoulders and sending him flailing back, his head smacking against the wall.

“You touch me again and I’ll shoot you!” Greg says, still down on the ground with Liv knelt beside him.

“GO AHEAD AND SHOOT ME! I DON’T FUCKING CARE!” He cries out, his voice near animalistic.

Amanda drags Carisi out of the area, trying not to hurt him. He starts bawling once again, his hands shaking.

“Carisi, calm down” she tries, pushing him to sit in a stray chair. But he’s off once again, too far gone to control his sobs.

Some time later, Carisi is returned to the waiting room, with Greg Hilson on the other side of it, an ice pack to the back of his head. The pain is thick and heavy over Sonny, making it impossible for him to think.

He doesn’t look up until another man comes in. Sonny’s hopes are dashed when he sees yet another man in a suit, not scrubs.

“Can I help you?” Liv asks.

“Yeah…can someone tell me how Rita is? Do you know?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Kurt?” Sonny speaks up, his voice hoarse. The dark skinned man turns at the name, and his face reveals shock when he sees the state of Sonny’s clothes.

“Uh…yes, I’m sorry, I don’t-“

“No, you don’t know me, but I know you. I’m Rafael’s husband.”

The man blinks a few times. “Oh. Right. With the coffee.”

“A lawyer and a cop, is it such a stretch they like coffee?” The old man speaks up.

“Who are you?” Kurt asks, then shakes his head. “Never mind, can someone tell me how she is?”

Liv pulls him aside, her words low as they wait.

Barba’s doctor comes out last, after Ken and Rita’s. it’s all secret, hushed voices revealing the extent of injuries to family.

A shattered rib, now reconstructed. A severely lacerated lung, the bullet turning his bone into shrapnel.

A tube shoved down Rafael’s throat, taped to his mouth.

His skin is blueish white when Sonny sees him. Someone tells him it looks worse than it is.

Sonny doesn’t believe it.

Sonny watches his husband, his chest rising and falling, while his eyes remain shut.

Sonny waits until they’re alone before crawling into the small bed with his husband, minding the tubes and wires.

And he stays like that, holding his husk of a lover. He prays, with all his might, that something else doesn’t happen. He prays that clots don’t form and shoot into his brain.

He prays that Rafael will wake up.

_Give him some time, the anesthesia is still in effect._

Sonny holds him and prays, and hopes he’s not putting his husband in any more pain.

Sonny doesn’t realize he drifts off until a hand is shaking his shoulder. His arms clench on reflex before he remembers where he is.

“Sir, I need you to get up.”

Sonny blinks heavily before his gaze locks onto a nurse.

“Sir, please get up, I need to check him.”

Sonny sighs and forces himself out of the bed, but his bones ache to the marrow. He watches the nurse, feeling helpless and alone.

The door opens, and heels click onto the tile.

“Soleado.” Lucia breathes, and Sonny turns. She goes to him, hugging him in his chair, her perfume overwhelming him. “Oh my god…”

“I know.” His voice creaks, and he coughs. “I know.”

She sits in the chair beside him, and he can see the way she’s trying to hide her view of her son with the nurse. “What happened?”

“I…I don’t…we…” The tears start again, threatening to push over. She rests a hand on his cheek.

“Shh, don’t. Here, I brought you both clothes, you need to get out of those.” She forces a shopping bag into his hands.

He takes it and slides into the private bathroom, relieving himself of his bloody garments. He washes his face and hair in the sink. The man that looks back at him in the mirror looks exhausted.

Cold droplets fall onto his shirt, soft cotton. His sweatpants are just as soothing.

These are waiting clothes.

He’s settling in for a lot of waiting.

He returns to his husband’s side, but switches to the one where Lucia isn’t sitting. Her head is bent, her hands clasped around one of his.

For a while, the only sounds come from the machines, with their occasional beeps.

It’s the dead of night outside when, inside, Rafael’s chest begins to twitch. A beat later, and there’s a cough to go with it, a gagging sound. Lucia and Sonny both look up.

“Go get a doctor. He’s waking up.” Sonny tells Lucia, who’s already on her feet.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be okay.” Sonny croons, hoping his husband can hear him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. I know, I know, this chapter was brutal.   
> But, good news, I finished my other story! A little annoyed that it took away from my writing this one, but honestly it came out good enough that I'm not that mad.   
> Hope you guys are enjoying both stories :)  
> Also, yes, Bill Maher is a real person, and I would HIGHLY recommend you check out some of his segments. His show is on HBO but a lot of his bits are on youtube.


	10. Revisionary Aftermath

Rafael isn’t aware of the moment of impact. One minute, he’s stood with his two lawyer companions, and the next he’s on his back, and he cannot breathe. He cannot breathe when Sonny is stood over him, trying to stop the bleeding. His vision swims, but that face is the one he keeps his gaze fixed on.

He cannot breathe. He gasps and sputters past the hot metal taste in his throat, but it’s no use. Only once he’s wounded again can he breathe.

And he’s cold. God, he’s fucking freezing. His eyelids feel heavy, but still he tries to look at Sonny, though his eye wanders away to something above Sonny.

No. Someone.

And then that someone and Sonny are gone, and he can see the ambulance ceiling turn into sky and turn again into hospital ceiling. His body quakes and without Sonny’s face to look at, his eyes don’t feel the need to be open. So, they slip shut.

Behind his lids the montage plays.

His oldest memory: of his grandfather holding him in his arms while they’re sat on a porch in Cuba. His senses are flooded with the smell of his cologne and the cigar he’s smoking, the one the cologne was meant to cover up.

His mother’s bright, young face, with her long hair stretching all the way down to her waist.

The beaming faces of his mother, father, and grandmother on the day he graduated Harvard. The grass is freshly cut, and the smell permeates the air.

Sonny. Sonny, with his bright, smiling face, his head resting on a pillow, his cheeks and ears red.

Liv. Noah. Rollins. Fin. Amaro. Sonny. Stood in Liv’s home, with baby Noah still in her arms, the taste of champagne on his tongue.

Sonny again, in his wedding tuxedo with his long hair perfectly framing his tear stained face.

Rita and Ken. The two of them are glowing with joy over their hard fought victory.

The image fades. A soft light appears, slowly overwhelming the last image from the edges to the center. The chill Rafael feels is banished, as he’s wrapped in warmth. Far away, he sees someone again. Now, in his comfortable state, Rafael understands that he’s recognizing this person, though they’re not someone he’s seen before.

Rafael moves, but he’s not aware of having legs to walk with. The people get closer, and they have bodies. He recognizes their feeling far more than he recognizes their physical appearances.

“Abuelita?” He asks. The shape of her face, the look in her eyes, the necklace gracing her chest, it all suggests her, but she is not the woman Rafael thinks of as his grandmother. She recognizes him, and her face stretches into a wide smile. She pulls him into a hug, tight and firm, making him aware of his body.

“Oh, el juez, look at you.” She pulls away to look at him, and he knows with all his soul that this his grandmother. The man beside her…

“Papi?”

“Hello Rafael.” The young man that has his father’s eyes and shoulders replies, and he actually smiles. It touches Rafael in a way he doesn’t understand, because he feels a little like he’s looking in a mirror.

“Where…where am I?”

“You’re just here to visit.” His father- this person who Rafael can feel in almost every way is his father- answers.

“I am?”

“Oh yes, mijo. You’re not done yet. You still have so many things left to do.”

“But if I don’t know where I am, how do I know how to get back?”

“You’ll find your way.” His abuelita answers. “You’ll feel your way back. We just wanted to say hello.”

“Why?”

“To let you know you’re not alone.” His father answers. Rafael turns his gaze on this man, who feels like his father but without the free floating hostility.

“I’m not?”

“Of course, Rafe.” His abuelita reassures, and touches his cheek. Her hand is smooth and warm. “You have so many things left to do. And there’s so many people you’d be leaving behind.”

“They’re not ready to be without you.” Roberto answers. “And we’re not ready for you yet. You need to be there for everyone.”

“Of course. What would Olivia and Amanda and Odafin do without you?” His grandmother speaks, and now Rafael is without doubt that this is her, because she believes in calling people the name their parents gave them.

“And Sonny.” His father continues. The name from such a familiar voice startles Rafael, gives him pause.

“And Sonny, of course! What would poor Soleado do without you? Querido, he would be heartbroken without you there. No, I think it’s time you go back to him. To all of them.”

“Already? Por que? I just got here.”

“It’s better you don’t linger, Rafael.” His father answers.

“But don’t worry. We’re always with you.”

Rafael’s mind buzzes, and then he feels it. A pull, in his stomach, in his head.

“I think I’m leaving.” Rafael finally says.

“Adios, Rafael.” His father offers, and so does his abuelita.

And then he’s in the dark. His breathing is painful, and something is blocking his airways. Something in his throat. He tries to cough it up, but it’s lodged too deep to be removed. He tries again, and again, and that’s when it begins to hurt.

He fights to open his eyes, but somehow they can’t open until the tube is gone. Only then can he find the strength to push his eyes open. Things are…fuzzy. Hazy. Blurry. But, slowly, the world around him comes into focus.

Two faces are hanging over him. One belongs to his mother, the other to his husband.

 _Sonny_ he wants to cry out, but his throat is dry. He recognizes the hand in his own, feeling the wedding band on his finger. His eyes sting with tears and his chest still hurts, but so does his throat. He coughs, and the sound of it startles both of them. Lucia finds a water and places the straw to his lips, letting him sip. It quells the scratching in his throat, but does nothing to soothe his chest.

“Hi Rafe.” Sonny tries, squeezing his hand.

“H…Hi” Rafael croaks out. He wants to cough, but his chest is so tightened he can’t even do that.

And it’s heavy, half of his chest feels like dead weight. Lucia strokes his hair, and Sonny presses kisses to his husband’s hand.

Rafael wants to cry. From the affection, and the pain.

“Are you hurting?” Sonny asks, and grabs a button on a wire, pressing it into the hand he’s holding. “This is morphine. Squeeze the button when you need it.”

Rafael’s so out of his mind that he can’t nod. All he can do is press down, while his mother and husband croon over him, telling him how loved he is.

****

Four days go by. Rafael sees his mother, his husband, his doctors, and the inside of his eyelids.

The morphine is the only thing that makes it tolerable. Every time he feels the sharp, shooting pain in the right half of his chest, he presses the button a few times. Minutes later, he’s fine.

Food disgusts him. Sonny figures out quickly that the only thing Rafael can hold down is fruit punch Gadorade, apple sauce, and canned pineapple. Everything else comes back up, and the action leaves him sucking air because he can’t scream.

Four days. Four hazy days, where Rafael only hears vague news clips about ‘the Russian affair being broken wide open.’ Even when he’s awake enough to listen, he’s not surprised.

Four days of silence. Not a single word more, since it hurts even under the haze of morphine.

On the fifth day, he talks to Sonny. He says “morning” and “help me” and “please”.

On the sixth, he gives one word answers to his doctors.

On the seventh, he has the energy to string together enough words for a sentence. And on the seventh day, the Carisi parents show up to give support, after Sonny’s very emphatic demand to ‘give Rafe some space.’

And even once they’re there, they give the man space. They don’t try to touch his shoulder, they don’t hold his hand, they simply stand at the foot of the bed and talk to Lucia or Sonny.

“Hey ma, can you grab the grey blanket out of the closet?” Sonny asks from his place, holding one of Rafael’s hands.

“Of course.” She gets up and scoots past her husband, going to the cabinet in the corner of the room. Her eyes go immediately to the top shelf, and she rests a hand on the blanket. But she can’t help the way her eyes twitch down to the pile at the bottom of the unit, where one of her son’s suits is balled up.

 _That’s an odd pattern-_ she thinks before yelping and slamming the flimsy door shut. Everyone flinches.

“Val-“

“It’s okay.” She tells Dominick, then hands her son the blanket. “J-Just a spider.”

“I understand bonita, I hate spiders too.” Lucia offers. Sonny doesn’t pay it any mind, just spreads the blanket out over his silent husband and pecks his forehead.

A knock comes at the door, and Sonny gets up to answer it. He returns a minute later and looks into Rafael’s eyes.

“I’m gonna step outside for a little bit. Munch and Elliot need to go do something, so I’m taking their post.”

Rafael blinks up at him. “B-But-“ he tries, only to cough.

Sonny shushes him. “It’s okay. I’m safe. I’m gonna be with a uniform and I have a gun in case I need it. Just relax, use your morphine.”

Rafael’s eyes follow Sonny to the door. The words _don’t go_ are lodged in his throat.

Rafael drifts, until his door opens. In comes an exhausted looking O’Dwyer, and a scruffy man pushing the wheelchair he’s in.

“Ken?” Rafael asks, blinking himself awake.

“Barba, look at you.” He speaks.

“Are you sure you want to?” The man pushing the chair says.

Ken rolls his eyes. “Can you not?”

“What? The guy looks like he’s been shot. It’s okay, I know the feeling.”

“So you should have enough sense to know when to shut up.”

“And enough sense to know when I should keep walking. You know, I don’t know if anyone ever told you this, but Nazis really like their guns. Not a good idea to give them such a clean shot.”

Ken spins one wheel of the chair so he’s facing the other man. “Oh my god, if you don’t fucking stop then I am going to put a hole in _your_ abdomen!”

“Really? Why not my leg? Oh wait, someone beat you to the punch and did it eight more times after that.”

“You’ve still got the other leg.”

“Don’t threaten the person with the gun, remember?”

“How about you go wait in the hall with Carisi? Make sure nobody tries to kill us again?”

“Well clearly he needs some help with that.”

Ken sighs and looks at Rafael. “He wasn’t always that miserable. He was always that selfish and that childish, but he wasn’t that miserable.” 

“Is he your…brother?” Dominick asks. Ken snorts, before a hand goes to his abdomen. “Hardly. We’ve been married for six years, but together the last eighteen.

“Long time.” Valerie comments.

“Yeah. And it just keeps getting longer.” Ken sighs. “And he’s got a chip on his shoulder now. He’s mad at me for almost dying, he’s mad at you” he looks at Barba “for asking me to help on this case and he’s mad at your squad for not moving us through faster. As if we could have predicted this.”

“Sounds like an angry guy.” Lucia comments.

“He is, but for the right reasons. He’s feeling so helpless.” Again he looks at Barba. “You have a cop for a husband, you know how that is, with them always having to be the protector and the person in control. But that’s also the kind of thing that leaves you walking around with that knot in your throat because you know they do dangerous, stupid things like put themselves in front of a person holding a machine gun. Eight bullets, an amputation, and a bought of painkiller addiction later and here we are.” 

Rafael’s head spins from the amount of information thrown at him, but he manages to nod along where it’s appropriate, like he understands

“Boy, you’re a man of many words, aren’t you?” Dominick asks. Ken’s gaze narrows.

“You must be Dominick Senior. Nice to see you behaving yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your son overshares and Rita holds grudges, I know pretty well who you are.”

“What? The fuck does she have to hold against me?”

“How about the fact that you made it even harder for her to work on a case that already had her coming to pieces? Bothering her client, insulting her star witness, interrogating other witnesses- oh wait, that was _Mrs._ Carisi who did that.” Ken turns his glare on Valerie, who closes her sweater tighter around herself. Rafael tries to sit up, but gives up when he feels the tightness in his chest sink it’s claws deeper.

“Ken.” He coughs. “Come on. They’re” another cough “here, aren’t they? Go easy.”

Ken looks at them again, sidelong. “I suppose you’re right. And Carisi did say you were doing better lately. Still, watch yourself.”

“Boy, my son was right, you’re something else.” Lucia says. Ken holds his abdomen and sits up straighter in his wheelchair.

“That must make you Lucia. Boy, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Always nice to meet a man’s mother.”

“And you? Where’s your mother?”

“Oh I sent her back to our place to get some sleep. She’s been a nervous wreck since she flew in from Miami. Not like Greg was any help.” He chuckles, but presses his stomach harder. “Still can’t laugh too hard. Good to know.”

“And your dad?” Rafael manages.

 “Oh he called.” He lets that hang. A slight, knowing smile pulls across Rafael’s face.

“Yeah? Wh-What’d he say?”

“Well I said hello and he said ‘Good job, what did you think would happen?’”

They both laugh for a split second before clutching their wounds.

“That’s horrible.” Valerie says. “What’d you say?”

“Oh I didn’t say anything. I hung up.” Ken says matter of factly, and shifts in his seat. “I don’t want to deal with his crap on a good day. On days like this, I’m certainly not bothering with his nonsense.”

“I don’t blame you, Ken.” Lucia says, her hand still around her son’s. “That’s such a way to talk to your son.”

“Well he’s a homophobic jackass, I know what he’s like. Which is why I have no tolerance for homophobic jackass fathers” Ken directs to Dominick Senior “in case you were wondering.”

Dominick bites his tongue, holding back a few bitter comments as the man in the wheelchair starts talking about what he’s heard on the news that Greg insists on playing in his hospital room.

On the other side of the door, Greg rolls his eyes. “God, he’s a blabbering idiot on this medication.”

“Morphine making people talk a lot? That one I haven’t heard.”

“No? Even after med school? Oh wait, no, you’re just a cop and a lawyer.”

“A cop who got their gun back.”

“Touché. Ready to use it if need be?”

“For Raf? Any time. Wouldn’t be the first time. Hopefully I’m not too late this time.”

“Indeed, hopefully.”

“How about you shut up before you trigger another nervous breakdown, huh?”

“Please, that was four days of that hell trial and watching your husband almost die in front of you.”

“Well you sure as fuck didn’t help.”

“I could’ve helped. But Ken insisted I keep out of it, that they didn’t need one more moving piece in all this.”

“Please, what would you have done? Made snarky comments? We already got three angry lawyers who were doing that enough.”

“I’m not a lawyer. I’m a cop.”

Carisi turns to look at the man a second before looking out at the hall again. “Seriously?”

“Or I used to be.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Word from the wise, don’t get seriously injured on the job. Your partner will never stop blaming themselves and never stop trying to apologize.”

“I find it hard to believe that anyone needs to apologize to you.”

“Lisa thinks she does. Almost died when we took on a drug dealer without waiting for backup.”

“The hell did you do that for?”

“We had reason to believe he was holding five people hostage. Crazy guy with lots of guns probably high out of his mind? We didn’t want lights and sirens tipping him off. Of course then we get in there to find them already dead, with this guy in the middle of snorting another line. We had a standoff, he shot me nine times in the leg before she caught up with us and killed him.”

“Christ on a bike, no wonder you’re so fucking miserable.”

“I’m miserable because I’m smart and everyone else is stupid.” He pauses. “Except Ken. Ken’s almost as smart as me.”

“And almost as miserable.”

“Not at all. He’s a very positive person, refuses to believe that law enforcement is irreparably corrupted. Or in the words of everyone’s favorite traitor, that ‘it’s rigged.’”

“I’d laugh if this whole thing weren’t so goddamn depressing. Besides, this case proved that justice can be served.”

“Yes, but the Klan sure wasn’t having that. They would’ve loved to string up all three of them anyway. The fact that they made Trump their bitch for the whole world to see made them angry enough to do it in a blue state.”

“Why would they want to kill Ken? Besides taking this case.”

“He’s gay.”

“Yeah, but you look at a guy like that and you just think his sexuality is angry.”

“So much of his anger is a front. Like I said, very positive, believes that justice can be served.”

“He helped in that.”

“And had fun tearing up Mike Pence while doing it.” He says just as they catch sight of someone walking up the hallway. Actually, two someones, and it’s more shuffling than walking. Rita, with her boyfriend Kurt guiding her, and holding an arm around her waist.

“What’re you guys doing out here?” Rita asks, blinking at them when they get close enough.

“Keeping watch. Pork and Beans went to get lunch I think. Go on through, party is inside.” Greg gestures to the door, and Rita stops. Again, she blinks, and searches his face.

“Wait…who are you?”

“Ken’s boy toy.” He deadpans. Carisi rolls his eyes.

“Ken is in there too?” She asks, her words at half their normal speed.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I’m sure you came here to get the hell away from him. He’s being a real jackass.”

“Yeah, he’s the jackass.” Sonny mutters.

“How old are you?” Greg asks, and Sonny just stares.

“Fucking excuse me?”

“Your face says 17, but your hair says 47.”

“Oh, as opposed to your appearance, which looks uniformly 67.” Sonny huffs and looks at Rita. “Unless you wanna hear us bicker, you should go in there.”

“And leave _your_ boy toy with us to commiserate.”

She rolls her eyes too, though it hurts more than she’s expecting, before going into the room on her own.. The first person out of their seat is Lucia, who comes over to her and pulls her into a hug, though she’s careful to avoid pressing down on the side with her arm in a sling.

“Oh mira, look at you. Oh honey.”

“Hi Lucia, nice to see you too.”

The older woman looks at her, and places a hand on her face, which Rita pulls away from. “Careful. There’s some stitches.”

“Stitches? Por que?”

“Because apparently I was bleeding out of my brain. They had to open me up a little to get at that.”

Lucia rests a hand over her heart. “Good lord.”

“I think it’s stopped. Do you mind?” She points to the seat Lucia vacated, and the older woman nods, leading her to the chair. “I think it’s stopped. But if I start slurring my words or slump over, please, call someone.”

“Uh huh.” Barba answers and she laughs.

“Oh wow, thanks Barba. And I’m sure I’ll call the nurse if you start drowning in your lungs again.”

“Please.”

“God, that’s so…morbid.” Valerie says. Rita chuckles, a low noise they barely hear.

“Good to see the Carisis once again, being significantly less intrusive.”

“They’re trying, Rita. Don’t make it harder.” Ken insists.  

The banter is slow goings. Barba doesn’t speak, Rita’s words are slow, and Ken takes over as being the designated oversharer. He talks and talks, until the door opens and in walks Rollins.

“Seems there’s an assortment of lover’s outside your door.” She announces. “Anybody claiming them?

“Oh, can’t you guess? The limping twerp is mine while the well stacked lawyer is hers.” Ken answers, Rita starts to laugh, but a hand flys to her shoulder and a pain pings in her brain. Barba coughs a few laughs too.

“Dammit Ken, don’t do that. Still hurts to laugh.” Rita chides

“Limping twerp?” Amanda asks, though she’s chuckling too. “That’s a nice way to talk about your husband.”

“Well he’s pissing me off today. Eighteen years of that is pretty grating, some days you don’t have the patience for it.”

“Good to see you’re back in working order, O’Dwyer.”

“Well detective I’m much more agreeable when I’m not hungry or tired or…you know…screaming for my mother.” 

“You remember what happened to you?” Rita asks. 

“Oh sure. I remember the pain and being afraid. And I remember…I think it was you telling me to stop talking.” He says to Rollins. “But you know me, I didn’t shut up.” 

“I’m shocked.” Barba answers, this time without coughing. Ken chuckles but holds his abdomen. 

“I was screaming for god. Then for my mother. And I remember being so freezing. The last thing I remember is passing out in the ambulance.” 

“More than I do. I remember nothing.” Rita says. 

“Wow, the person with a bleeding brain can’t remember what happened.” Ken shoots back.

“Well it’s nice to see the bullet didn’t hit your sarcasm gland.” Rollins jokes. 

“Is that why you came to visit? Test our wits?” 

“No, not at all. Just letting you know Munch and Stabler and back, so Sonny can come on in.” 

“I should probably get going then.” Ken unlocks his wheelchair “You know, before Greg and Carisi get into a duel.” 

“I’m sure-“ Barba starts, but ken holds a hand up. 

“I’m sure they won’t either. Carisi’s smarter than that. Still, I’ll let you get your rest. You’re turning even whiter than me.” 

“That’s a stretch.” Greg limps in, Carisi close behind him. “Come on wheels, I’ll use you as my walker.” 

“God, please don’t put any stairs in our path.”

“Why? I can walk up the stairs, you’re the one the doctors confined to a wheelchair until your stitches are healed.”

“Thanks. Nice to know you’d abandon me.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s your own fault you got shot.”

Ken huffs. “You are honestly so not funny. No wonder we don’t have any friends!” 

“No, we don’t have any friends because all the people you might socialize with know you as a hardass and a ballbuster. And that’s helpful if you’re a pornstar but not in much else.” 

“Shut the hell up and get me out of here.” Ken demands. Greg stares him down a moment before taking the handles of the wheelchair. Ken offers goodbyes.

“Wheel me to the lunchroom while you’re at it.” Ken demands.

“I already ordered pizza.” Greg says.

“Aw, how sweet, you know I love Italian.”

Even in her state, Rita glares in the direction of that comment. “Okay…I think I need some rest.”

Kurt appears, and guides her out, while gently reassuring her and asking her if she’s okay.

The Carisi parents are so startled by it all. They have no qualms about leaving when they’re asked to. Lucia leaves too, under a little more objection.

Sonny’s glad when he and Rafael are alone. He scoots a chair closer to the bed and rests a hand on his cheek.

“Does it still hurt to talk?”

Barba nods, just slightly.

“Save your strength.” Sonny presses a few kisses to his forehead. “I’m sure I’ve said it already, but I love you so so much. I’m so happy you survived.”

Rafael’s mouth turns up in a half smile. “Love you too.” He croaks out.

“Don’t talk, baby.” Sonny murmurs and kisses his forehead again, then pecks his lips. “But I really appreciate that. I promise I’m gonna appreciate you more, no more-“

Barba puts a hand up to stop him, before reaching up to touch his face. His sweet, over expressive, tenderly soft face.

Tears find their way into Rafael’s eyes, but he closes them before they can escape. Sonny leans over Rafael at an odd angle and hugs him close while avoiding his mangled parts.

“It’s okay, Rafe. And I meant what I said before. You did the right thing.”

His chest burns with want to cry. His tears slip.

_Did I?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone have any guesses as to who I imagine Greg Hilson being played by?   
> (Hint, if you know what one of Robert Sean Leonard's bigger roles was, you can figure it out.)   
> Guys, these chapters are kinda lengthy but I think they're my new standard length and I'm not even mad about it.   
> Also I go off to college tomorrow so please wish me luck!!!!


	11. Taking Flight

Eight days after the trial ends, Rita and Ken are sent home, but not without saying goodbye first. Ken’s is brief and interrupted by Greg’s nagging voice coming through the door. He’s in and out in two minutes.

Rita lingers. She tells Rafael she’s going home, then sits down next to his bed.

“How’re you doing, huh?” She reaches out and pats his arm. “You getting there, Barba?

“Rita, stop with the touching. I’m not in the mood today.” He murmurs, while his other hand pushes the morphine button.

She sighs deeply and draws her hand away.

“Can’t do that anymore.” He murmurs.

“I’m sure you’ll be back to sighing in disdain in no time.” She tries, and laughs at her own joke. He doesn’t. He just stares at the wall across from him.

She sits on his bed and takes his hand, and gives it a gentle squeeze. He’s too tired to pull away.

“We did the right thing, Barba. Two rapists are in jail, and America’s nightmare is over.”

“Did the Civil War start yet?”

She breathes in to sigh, then stops herself. “No. And it’s not going to.”

No response.

“When are they letting you out?”

“Dunno.” _Tomorrow._

“What are you going to do when you get out?”

No response. He hasn’t thought that far ahead. She plays with his hand, examining it as she thinks, and as she speaks.

“They gave us the rest of the year, at least. Probably into next year too. Kurt’s going to stay with me for a few weeks while I get back on my feet. He’s talking about taking me on vacation somewhere.”

He rolls his head over to give her a look.

“What?”

“Is it safe?”

“Well I’m not planning on going to Texas or Kentucky. Maybe…Hawaii. Hawaii works.”

He looks away again.

“I’m so glad I was right about him. He’s a really good guy. I’d say he’s great, but..you know…that word’s been ruined.”

_As has the word ruined._

“Sorry. That wasn’t supposed to be a joke.”

He doesn’t respond. A low panic creeps through him, but it’s far enough away that he’s not overwhelmed.

“Well…I’ll let you rest, give you some time with your man. When you get that big mouth of yours back in working order, you know my number.”

She waits for a laugh that doesn’t come.

“My sleep schedule is completely thrown, so call any time if you want.”

She waits another moment before sighing.

“Bye, Barba. I’ll see you.”

“Bye.” He pushes out, and watches her go. A minute later and Sonny re-enters.

The TV is on while Sonny reads, but Rafael isn’t paying attention to it. He’s putting his brain to use on something besides guilt, fear, and confusion.

“I need to go.” Rafael breaks Sonny’s concentration. He looks up from his book wearing a puzzled expression.

“Where?”

He shrugs with his left shoulder, the one on the good half of his body.

“I dunno. We need to go. Somewhere. Anywhere.”

“Okay.” Sonny’s attempt at sounding casual is betrayed by his worried face. “Any place in mind?”

“No.”

“How about somewhere warm. Huh? Maybe go back to the Bahamas? Or how about Puerto Rico? I’m sure I could find a place for us there. Will they let you fly?”

“Who knows?”

“Y’know what? I’ll ask the next time the doctor comes around. But we’ll go somewhere nice and warm. Nice and warm and safe, just the two of us. How’s that sound?”

It takes so much out of Rafael to smile. “That sounds perfect, mi héroe.”

The smile that breaks out over Sonny’s face makes Rafael’s heart throb, and touches something deep in his soul. For a fleeting second, that gleaming smile clears his mind and makes everything seem okay.

****

The home Sonny rents is right on the beach in Puerto Rico, but private enough that they don’t have to worry about anything. It’s a safe place. A place small enough for Sonny to keep guard over, while caring for his ailing husband.

Pills are administered every so often at intervals Rafael doesn’t know. Because he’s asleep.

Or if he’s not asleep, he’s in bed, trying to sleep. The memory foam hugs his body, giving some relief to the last edge of pain that the pills can’t reach,

Every inhale causes pain for Rafael, low and radiating and impossible to soothe.

Every exhale takes a little more of Rafael’s already failing energy.

And Sonny knows how much pain he’s in when he goes days on end without hearing his husband’s voice. But he knows he can’t expect so much from him so soon. He asks questions that require yes or no answers, and knows enough when he doesn’t need to ask.

Sonny leads Rafael to the bathroom, his arms hitched up under Rafael’s just in case he faints. Again. Rafael only moves to keep pace with Sonny. Everything hurts. Nothing feels like his own.

He doesn’t fight Sonny’s hands as they strip away his clothes and lays them over the closed toilet. Carisi’s doubly careful about how he helps Barba slide into the tub, his hands remaining firm on his sides.

“The water’s warm enough for you?” Carisi asks, resting a hand on his shoulder. Rafael nods.

“Do you want me to put the jets on?”

 _Jets. Noise._ He shakes his head.

“Do….do you want your shoulders rubbed? Maybe?”

He shakes his head, but less forcefully.

“Should I leave you alone?”

He just shrugs. Carisi presses a light kiss to his temple. “I’ll be in the other room. Just yell if you need me. I’ll come check on you in a little while.”

Rafael doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even nod. Why should he bother?

The water around him loosens his muscles and makes his body relax, while his mind stays its normal level of drained. He can’t think. If he starts thinking he’ll cry, and if he cries he won’t be able to breathe. It’s already hard enough.

He glances down at his chest, where his wound is open, It’s not a huge hole. In comparison to the rest of his body, this patch of skin is pretty small. _How can such a small hole cause so much damage?_

The scar accompanying it, though, that’s not small. A red line begins at his bullet wound, and wraps all the way around to his back, a couple inches away from his spine.

He sighs, deeper than he meant to, sending a zing of pain down his back for some reason.

He lets his eyes close.

Maybe he falls asleep, or maybe he zones out. Rafael’s not sure. Some time must pass, because when he feels a familiar hand on his shoulder, the water around him is cooled.

“Did you wash your hair?”

He gives a slight head shake, even slighter than before. Sonny gets up and grabs a disposable cup from the stack on the sink. When he kneels behind Barba on the tub steps, he uses the cup to pour water over his hair. Rafael closes his eyes and lets Sonny’s unmistakable fingers rub shampoo through his hair, then work to rinse it out. As if he needs it. As if he’s done anything more than sit in bed for a few days.

Maybe that’s why Sonny’s let him get away without bathing for two entire whole days.

Rafael hears a small splash, and then the gurgling of the drain being opened.

Sonny turns on the tub faucet and pours warm water over him, especially over his chest.

Sonny waits until the tub is empty before helping him out of it, and wrapping his robe around him, then guiding him to sit on the plush toilet seat cover.

Rafael shivers, just a little, when Sonny pulls back his robe to expose his round wound. He applies Neosporin to the area before putting another waterproof bandaid over it. The other scar, the one further down on his chest where they put the tube in, is almost healed. The stitches are almost gone, but still Sonny pats on the cream.

Sonny meets his eye, and reaches a hand up to cup his face. Rafael’s chest tightens, and now he really wants to cry.

_Te amo mi h_ _éroe. Lo siento estoy destruido._

“Do you want to go back to bed? Or maybe sit in the living room?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but he feels like crying. And yet his face hurts so bad that he can’t. He takes a few breaths, looking for the words, before Sonny pecks his open lips instead

“Bed. Let’s go to bed.”

_Even though it’s two in the afternoon._

****

Sleep is always there, waiting to drag Rafael under once again. And yet he wakes to an exhausted body and an exhausted mind, trying not to click over the same thoughts that won’t exit his mind.

_Did I do the right thing?_

_Does he hate me now?_

_Will we ever be safe again?_

_Can this be fixed?_

_Will it ever end?_

_Where’s Sonny? Wait, no, he’s in the next room. He’s walking around. He’s humming._

_Is…is that him?_

_Yes, it is. Sonny will protect you. He’ll kill for you._

_Again. Like he already has twice. You already made the good Catholic boy kill twice. How much longer until he hates you?_

_Where’d his footsteps go? Did he leave?_

“Rafe?” Sonny’s voice is gentle, and his body appears in Rafael’s line of vision. His gaze flicks up to the man. “Honey? It’s time for your pills.”

He’s holding a mug in one hand and something else he can’t see in the other. He has to set them down to help Rafael sit up. His back throbs, his chest tightens.

_You’re so weak. Look at this, once again, him having to take care of you._

“Here sweetie, eat a little first.” He offers the mug of chopped pineapple. The cold of the ceramic stings his hands. The fruit on his tongue has to compete with the film covering his mouth. There’s the mildest relief in the moment he holds his breath to swallow the bite. Short lived.

Sonny watches Rafael make slow progress of the food in his cup, waiting until half of it is gone before picking up the pills. Rafael sets down the cup…somewhere. It’s not in his hand when he downs the two halved pills. It appears back in his hand so he can sip the juice collected at the bottom of it, getting rid of the two bitter tabs.

“There you go.” Sonny croons, petting his hair. “You’ll feel better soon, Rafe. Eat a little more, then you can lay back down.”

Rafael complies, chasing away the bitterness lingering in his mouth.

He leaves a few pieces when he hands it back to Sonny.

“That’s so good, Rafe. You almost finished the whole thing.” He says, and cups his cheek again. Rafael’s eyes close, and he leans into the touch.

“Hey Rafe?”

His eyes open, and there’s a tentative smile on Sonny’s face.

“I know it’s a little early, but I’m going to get some groceries. Did you want anything special for dinner tonight?”

_He’s leaving. He’s leaving and he’s never coming back. Someone’s going to kill him._

_No. He’s just running away. And who’s going to care about you then, huh?_

“Hey, sweetie it’s okay.” Both of Sonny’s hands touch his face. The one wrapped around the cup is freezing, and it soothes where the blood has rushed, into his face.

“Baby, don’t freak out. I won’t be gone long. Maybe ten minutes. I’ll put you in the safe room if you want, there’s a sofa in there you can lay on.”

The thought alone makes Rafael’s feet ache. He lets his gaze fall and, again, he leans into his touch.

“It’s okay baby, I won’t let you get hurt. I promise, I promise, I won’t let someone hurt you again. You’re safe with me.”

Rafael swallows, the nerves going down with his saliva.

“So…did you want anything special for dinner?”

He shakes his head, and reaches up to touch his husband’s hands. Those same hands that lay him back down and stroke his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the time being noon.

_Wasn’t it…was that the last time I got a pill? No, wait, it was later…_

The thoughts are halted by sleep taking over.

“Rafe…Rafe…” the voice is accompanied by kisses ghosting over his cheek. His eyes have to be forced open. Sonny’s face is there, again, but the light hits it at new angles. “Hey, there’s my husband.”

“Hi” Rafael croaks.

“Here, drink.” Sonny picks up the bottle that’s spent all day on his nightatand. The blue plastic makes the red liquid purple, and the straw is warm where it presses against his tongue. He takes a few long pulls, and when he leans away Sonny puts it back in it’s place.

“I brought food. Do you want to eat now, baby?”

Rafael thinks about his stomach, which feels emptier than when he fell asleep. His tongue tastes stale.

“Mhm.”

Again, Sonny’s careful about where he touches Rafael, though his touch is firm where it holds him. And then he’s gone, leaving Rafael to wait and think about his chest. The numbness has ebbed, but it means he can feel every breath pulling against his scars. He stares at the beige wall, watching how the setting sun outside casts shadows.

“Here we go.” Sonny returns, and rests a lap tray where he has every night. He tilts his head, taking in the contents of his plate.

Shredded pork. Beans and rice. Fried plantains. Half an empanada. Saliva pools in his cheeks.

“Thank you.” Rafael forces his face into a smile, and the one that crosses Sonny’s lights up the room more than the lamp he clicks on. He disappears for a minute, and comes back with a plate of his own. Rafael takes small bites, but nothing in him resists the food.

His eyes drift over to Sonny’s, taking in the whole empanadas and plantains, the only things he’s eating. He crunches into one, and a quip comes to mind.

“What would Rudnick say?” He asks once his bite is taken. The comment catches Sonny, making him have to clasp a hand over his mouth. He takes a few seconds, then looks at Rafael.

“I dunno, probably start talking about my liver again. But guess what? Rudniks not here. He’s in a jail, sharing a crappier meal with much worse company.”

Rafael reaches over and pats Sonny on the shoulder, making his smile widen.

The food is savory, and the taste lingers in Rafael’s mouth even after he’s had his fill. The taste takes his attention away from his looping thoughts and the pull in the right half of his chest.

He watches Sonny gather up their dishes. His smile dulls a little at the sight of food still on Rafael’s plate.

_You’re hurting him._

_You’re making him sad._

_You lived and it’s like he’s alone anyway._

_Does…does he wish he was alone?_

His ears prick at an unfamiliar sound, and his head lifts from its drooped position.

“Happy birthday to you.” Sonny appears with a lone cupcake on a plate.

“Happy birthday to you.” His hand shields the flame of a single blue candle.

“Happy birthday dear Rafael.” He comes around to his side of the bed, using one hand to hold the plate and the other to hold the small cake.

“Happy birthday to you.”

_It’s my birthday?_

Rafael blinks a few times before looking up at Sonny. He takes notice of how wide his smile is and how the curling ends of his hair now touch his ears.

“Make a wish, babe.”

His eyes drift back to the tiny chocolate cake. The blaze flickers.

_For Sonny to be safe._

He takes as deep a breath as he needs, and lets out a puff of air, snuffing it out.

“Yaaaaay!” Sonny cheers quietly.

_Keep him safe. He deserves to be safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Rafe...


	12. Stilted Transition

Sonny is there. Sonny is, often, sat beside Rafael. He’s reading, he’s on his phone, he’s watching TV with the captions on. But Rafael doesn’t have occasion to notice with his eyes closed.

His ears are closed when Sonny has clipped, worried conversations with American doctors. Closed with sleep. Sleep that’s, at times, is broken up so little that he doesn’t even remember opening his eyes.

When Rafael is woken up to choke down his pills, it’s supposed to be noon. That timing keeps him from being in severe pain. But one day, he sleeps past noon, well into the afternoon. He’s woken up by the pain in his chest generated by the natural rhythm of his breath. He shallows out his breathing, but the ache can’t be tamed. 

Sonny appears in front of him, and kneels next to his bed. 

“Aw babe, I’m sorry. I know, I know, it hurts.” 

Rafael blinks hard, looking for his words. “What…? Why…?” 

“The doctor said to start spacing out your pills more now. Eight hours instead of six. But no more getting up in the middle of the night anymore.” 

Rafael tries to get a deep breath, but a hot pain sears into his chest. Sonny’s gaze flicks away. 

“You know what? It’s almost two, I think you can get the medication now. I’ll be right back.” His lips press to Rafael’s cheek and he’s gone for a few minutes. It feels much longer for Rafael. He rolls onto his back, off of his injured side, but it brings him little relief. He can’t get a full, deep breath. 

“Rafe, you think you can be sat up for a few seconds? Just for the pills?” 

Rafael nods, and a knot of tension makes itself known at the base of his neck. Sonny sets the items he’s holding on the nightstand and wraps one hand around his shoulder, the other pressing against his back, to help sit him up. There’s no relief in sitting up. Sonny gives him the two halved pills and he takes them, along with a sip of fruit punch Gatorade. 

“Baby I’m so sorry. How about we get you in for your bath now? Maybe if your circulation is better the meds will kick in faster.” 

He nods again. The guilt Sonny feels is plain on his face when he gets him settled into the tub. It’s still there when he comes to retrieve Barba from his soak. 

“Hey babe, how’re you feeling?” He touches Rafael’s cheek. “You feeling better?” 

Rafael nods, the beginnings of his migraine having dissipated. Sonny keeps a light hand with Rafael when he can, like when he’s shaving his third day stubble or patting on scar cream. When he can’t, like when he helps Rafael back to their bed, he tries hard to keep his touch away from Rafael’s injuries. 

“Alrighty, let’s get you dressed…” Sonny murmurs, going into the closet. Rafael can’t see him from where he’s sat on the bed, but he can imagine Sonny picking through different pairs of sweatpants and t-shirts. 

_He’s too good for you, you know that?_

Sonny returns with some sweatpants and some boxers. Sonny shimmies them onto Rafael, with little help from Rafael himself. Carisi slips his husband’s robe from his shoulders and places it on the hook in the closet, then comes back with a few shirts. 

_He’s nice like mami. Too bad you turned into your father._

“How about one of these?” Sonny holds up a Harvard shirt and plain, speckled grey one. He raises one shoulder in a shrug. 

“You don’t care, do you?” Sonny asks. Again, Rafael half shrugs. He sets both shirts down on the bed, then tugs out the collar of his own shirt. 

“How about this one? You love my Fordham shirts.” 

Rafael’s tempted to agree, but instead he casts his gaze down. Sonny doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he whips off the maroon shirt and slides it over Rafael’s head before he can protest. Immediately, Rafael’s enveloped in the smell of his husband sans-cologne. It’s a pure, unadulterated scent that makes Rafael feel enveloped in love

_Look at this? You almost got him killed- again- and he's literally giving you the shirt off his back. You don't deserve him._

Rafael’s lip quivers. He opens his mouth to let out a small cry, but his lungs decide otherwise. He chokes on a sob, and on another, and his tears slip free. 

A pair of familiar arms wrap around him, though their grip is light. Sonny’s cheek presses against his own. 

“It’s okay babe. I love you. You’re so so loved, you know that? You are.”

_That’s all you do. You take and take and then you wonder why people leave you._

Rafael coughs, and Sonny rubs his back, only to yank it away when he feels the scar that extends onto his back.

_Tell him you love him._

Rafael chokes on his tears.

“Shh, breathe baby, breathe.”

“i-I” he stammers, and Sonny presses a kiss to his cheek.”

“It’s okay. I know, baby, I know you love me. Don’t talk, just breathe.”

There’s an indignant twinge that’s quickly shut down by a sharp pain in his lung, telling him he really needs to calm down. Tears slide down his face. Sonny holds him, until he has to just return to breathing.

_You useless fuck. You come back and the one thing you’re any good at you can’t do anymore._

****

“Rafe.” The gentle, soothing voice wakes him. “Rafe, wake up babe”

His eyes pull open into slits, and he can see Sonny’s dressed. Last time he saw the man was when they settled down for the night.

But the sunlight that streams in behind him tells Rafael it’s morning.

“Hmm?”

“Rafe, wake up honey.”

“…pills?” He stammers, but he sees no cup.

“No baby, you don’t get your pills again until two now, remember? It’s only noon”

_Oh. It’s noon._

“No, baby did you want to talk to Liv?”

Rafael blinks. “Liv?”

“Yeah, Liv’s on the phone. She said you weren’t answering her messages, wanted to know if you wanted to talk instead.”

Rafael hums, a noncommittal noise.

“So, yeah? You’ll talk to her?”

He makes another noise. But he doesn’t cough.

“Okay Lieu, here he is.” Sonny says, before placing the phone on the side of Barba’s face, forcing him to find his hand and hold the phone.

“Hi Barba.”

“Hi.” He murmurs. His eyes rest on the pillow next to him, too tired to even watch Sonny leave.

“It’s been weird without you around. We don’t have any of our lawyers.” She chuckles. Rafael makes another tiny noise, acknowledging her comment.

“I mean Rita is still out. And Ken’s been by to visit, but that was social. You can guess that people are a little nervous to work with us.”

She waits for a comment. His end of the line is silent.

“That Greg guy, he’s something else. I would’ve hated to be his partner.”

Another pause.

“Can you believe what’s happening though? I mean, Chief Justice Roberts and Orrin Hatch announcing to everyone that they’re going to expunge the entire presidency? Not like it was a huge surprise after the Russia stuff tumbled out.”

_Really? Huh. Maybe I should look at my phone._

“Did you watch Hillary Clinton’s inauguration?”

_Wait…is this real? Or am I having another weird dream?_

He opens his eyes, forcing himself to be awake.

“No.” He croaks out.

“We did. We had it on in the squad room. I shed a tear or two. I also thought this might be the end, but it’s been quiet. Weird. I wonder how many of the Klan’s plans the Secret Service thwarted on her inauguration day.”

Rafael’s chest tightens, and his heart pounds.

The Klan. The swastikas. The burning cross.

“Uh, yeah, but anyway how are you feeling?” She diverts, the sound of his heightening breath making her panic. “Sonny says your scars are healing nice.”

He doesn’t respond. His eyes water, and he remembers.

He watched himself get shot on TV over and over again before being snowed under once again. A tan uniform, a red arm band.

“How…? How…?” He grapples for words.

“I don’t know, I guess you’re taking good care of them is all.

“How…? How, Liv? How do you live with that?”

“With what, Barba?”

“Someone.” He coughs. “Someone…tried to end me…what now?”

“You stay extra careful. You keep your guard up. You let people protect you.”

“No…” He has to sift through words and heave them out. “How…how do you live with that?” He tries. The tears he always tries so hard to keep back are constantly threatening to spill.

“I don’t know. But you’ve done it before, Barba. You’ve lived and you’ll keep living.”

_You can’t tell me that. You can’t lie to me like that, Liv._

****

The phone remains a distant entity. It’s bright, blinking screen requiring constant attention is far too much for Rafael to handle. The sting in his lungs, while it dulls, remains constant. And Sonny is constant. Only looking for words when it’s totally necessary.

The next time a phone is rested against his face, Rafael notices the way Sonny’s curling ends bounce when he leans down to look at him.

“Raf?” His mother’s voice comes into his ears. His chest seems to tighten reflexively at the thought of the crying that will follow. “Raf, honey? You there?”

“Mami…” His words are thick, slurred by his tongue. “Mami…”

“Aw nene, honey, you sound so triste. Isn’t Soleado taking care of you?”

That pushes him over. Tears slide down his face and meet the pillow.

“Mami…” He struggles, and actually sniffles.

 “Raf, if he’s treating you wrong-“

“Mami” he croaks. “Mami, he loves me.”

“What’re you so sad about? Of course he does, querido, he loves you so much.”

The tears flow. His heart strains. His mind is at a loss for words of any kind other than ‘”Mami.”

****

Visceral. Painful. Fear. That’s what’s there when Rafael’s eyes open to the already lit room. Everything is so real that he can’t keep from letting out a scream that hurts his lungs and his own ears. Eyes open, and he can still see his sweet, adorable, beloved husband being shot.

The blood pouring out of his skull.

The cold, shocked, dead look on his face.

And Rafael, helpless, watching a man in a white sheet sprint away while Rafael unravels.

“Rafe, Rafe stop.” Sonny appears, but it takes a moment for his eyes to really settle in. And then, he’s sobbing. He’s weeping. Openly and unmistakably, the images in his mind forcing them out.

His whole body shakes with the force of his sobs. His dam can’t be closed.

His mind works a million miles hour, processing what he dreamed and what’s really happened on the same wave length.

“Te amo, mi héroe.” Rafael sobs, even with his burning chest. “Te amo, te amo, te amo. Lo siento estoy destruido.”

“Shh, Rafe.” He murmurs, his hands pushing tears away as fast as they can come. Rafael chokes on a sob, making snot come out of his nose and his airways clench. Sonny plucks a tissue out of the box next to the bed, and uses it to wipe his face.

He gives up when he sees the tears are still coming, and he pulls Rafael closer.

“It’s okay baby, I’m here, I’m here. Just breathe for me. Try and breathe.”

He croons the words even though he keeps crying. Rafael fits in some heavy breaths between sobs, but they let him cry harder.

Sonny’s hand rubs his back soothingly. His heart freezes when Rafael wheezes, and for a second he’s right back on the courthouse floor, listening to Rafael suffocating in his own blood.

But he’s glad for the crying. It’s what he’s been waiting on for since they arrived. This terrible, hulking wave of emotion that crashes over him. But it means Rafael is finally letting himself feel all the things he’s been too tired to feel.

_Maybe the depression will break, now. Maybe it’s like a fever._

He insists, when he can feel the force of Rafael’s cries lessening, that he stop. He croons for Rafael to ‘stop’ and to ‘relax’, and he’s relieved by the silence that follows. Worried, and relieved.

Rafael stays curled against Carisi, the two of them laying together in bed. Sonny is careful, sure to hold Rafael but not so hard that he’ll hurt the smaller man.

When he feels Rafael relax against him, he reaches back behind himself and finds his phone. He opens it, careful not to shine the screen towards his resting husband, and types in the words. A chill passes over him, and he slides the device under his pillow before pulling Rafael closer.

“Rafe…Rafe, it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry, and you’re not destroyed.”

Rafael lifts his head from its place against Sonny’s neck. His eyes are wide, red, and pained. Sonny touches his face.

“You’re not destroyed. You’re just a little bit broken, but you can heal. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. Sorry that I can’t be your hero.”

“Sonny” He lifts a hand to touch him. His face, as tired as it is, creases slightly when he realizes their touch is interrupted. Instead of his finding warm skin decorated with tufts of light hair, his fingers are resting on the collar of a dark t-shirt.

_He’s…he’s dressed? He wasn’t when I fell asleep…_

His fingertips rest against his collar, pulling the shirt slightly away from his body.

“You’re.-“

“No. No, I’m not.” He shakes his head slightly. “Every single time I have the chance to stop you from getting hurt, I fail.”

“That’s-“

“Don’t lie. It’s true. I didn’t wake up and I didn’t see the gun. I let you get beaten, I let you get shot, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.”

“You did though.” His voice is soft and tender, and Sonny’s too afraid that interrupting will stop him from talking again. “You kept me from being raped. You killed my attacker even when you had a head injury. You killed the man that shot me. You…you _carried_ me. Into the courthouse. And you ruined a very good suit to keep me from bleeding out.”

His voice wobbles at the bit that’s supposed to be a joke.

“You saved me. Twice. If the first time didn’t prove it, the second one did.”

Rafael meets his husband’s eye. Underneath a few wild strands of hair, his blue eyes are heartbreakingly sad. Rafael wishes he could brush his teeth, or at least gargle some mouth wash, before he does what he does next.

He picks up his head slightly and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek, which is still smooth. He must have shaved in the shower. “Querido.”

Sonny averts his eyes, thinking this is another nickname he doesn’t deserve. Rafael tries again, placing another kiss on his jawline. “Hermoso.”

Again, on his cheek again. God, Rafael wishes his breath didn’t stink so bad for this moment. “Mi rey.”

Again, now on the plain of his cheekbone. “Mi vida.”

The hand on Rafael’s back presses harder, pulling him a little closer. It lets him land a kiss on Sonny’s temple. “Mi héroe. Para siempre.”

The hand on his back disappears, and the warm patch it leaves behind makes him shudder. It moves to Rafael’s cheek, cupping it, holding his face in place. Their faces move closer, until their lips are centimeters apart. If one of them moved, their mouths would brush.

Barba closes the last bit of distance, and presses their lips together. For a second, just a second, he forgets how much better this situation could be and kisses his husband.

It’s gentle. It’s sweet. Sonny’s lips are just as soft as Rafael remembers, bringing up tangible memories of something besides the pain.

It’s a first.

The first time in Rafael’s 42 day haze that he can feel something other than his own depression. He can feel it, trying to put Rafael back together, trying to make him whole again. It diminishes when they part, but Rafael doesn’t pull away. That new-again feeling gives him the strength to lay on Sonny’s chest.

The scar tissue pushes back into him. He’ll have to move before he can fall asleep again. But it lets him hold onto the feeling of their love just a little while longer.

He listens to Sonny’s heart. And his breathing. He remembers that his hero is still alive.

His nightmares are just dreams. The love of his life is still here.

Forty two days, and Rafael can feel again. Of course their love is the first thing he should feel.

****

Sonny has fewer qualms about kicking Rafael out of bed when he sees him get up on his own. He’s still wearing Sonny’s sweatshirt, but he doesn’t get winded as easily going from their room to the couch. He throws a blanket over Rafael on the couch and hands him the remote before changing their sheets. Every third day. Like clockwork. The simplest self-care tip Barba ever heard, and he can’t help himself by doing it.

The usually bright living room is dark from the overcast. He lays there on the sofa, while trying to decide between turning on the TV that might get knocked out and leaving it off.

He thinks so long that the rain begins, making the decision for him. He sets the remote aside and lays there, listening to the next room. Over the drizzle he can make out Sonny humming a _Hamilton_ song, occasionally interrupted by the fluffing of sheets or the sound of pillows being dropped onto the mattress.

When the rain gets loud enough that those sounds are lost, he picks himself up and walks into the kitchen, the blanket slung around his shoulders. The bay window, and it’s window seat, are clear. Rafael has a sudden flash of when he was a boy, and he read on the weather channel during a very bad storm to stay away from windows. But still, he drags himself over and makes himself comfortable. He watches the rain fall, and lets his brain numb to the sound.

Thunder joins in. the low, far away, rumbling kind. The kind that brings back a very vivid, albeit dimly lit, memory.

Sonny walks into the living room, and there’s a tug of panic in him when he sees Rafael missing.

_I would have heard a door open, wouldn’t I? Goddammit, I can’t hear worth shit, can I?_

He swallows and goes checking, his heart only unwinding when he sees Rafael sat in the kitchen nook.

_He went somewhere else on his own. That’s good. Right?_

Sonny walks over, careful to not startle him, while trying not to disturb his peace. He leans against the wall adjacent to the window, and follows his gaze out of it. In the distance, the waves are obscured with mist.

Rafael realizes he’s there, and lets his gaze drift to Sonny again. This real Sonny mixes with his memory Sonny, who’s not that far off of a memory. He rests his head back against the wall, just gazing at him. Another low peal of thunder sounds, still distant. It makes Sonny’s own heart churn. He fixes his eyes on Rafael now, finally noticing him.

“How…” Barba tries, then clears his throat. “How are you doing?”

Sonny shrugs and moves closer, perching on the edge of the window space, in the space that isn’t occupied. “Okay, I guess. Can’t complain.”

Rafael tilts his head at Sonny. “You can tell me.”

“Really, I’m okay. Why?”

“Because…because you killed for me. Again.”

He turns his head, looking at the refrigerator on the other side of the room instead of Rafael. “I did what I had to do.”

“You can talk about it. If you want.”

He shakes his head. “I’m okay. I’ve talked about it enough already.”

“With who?” _Why do I sound so offended? It’s not like I’ve been such good company lately._  

“I dunno. Liv, mostly. Not that I’ve talked about it a whole lot, but it’s fine.”

“it’s not though. It screwed you up so bad the first time.”

“I was protecting you. both times. I can live with that.”

Rafael swallows and lets his head loll, looking back out at the rain hazed world.

Thunder sounds again, and immediately Sonny’s mind can’t get rid of the image it forms. He looks at Rafael, and this time the man meets his eye immediately.

“You remember?” Rafael asks. Sonny’s face pulls into a reluctant smile.

“Of course. How could I forget?”

The sound of Rafael shuffling over so he’s sat right beside Carisi is covered by another rumble, though it’s closer before. The older man rests his head on the younger’s shoulder. Of course, Sonny wraps an arm around his shoulders, and presses a peck to the top of his head.

“The bed is made, if you want to go back to it.”

Rafael musters the strength for a nod. Sonny’s arm drops from Rafael’s shoulders to hitch around his waist, helping him get up. Most of his energy is sapped now. Sonny guides him back to the freshly made bed, while the other set of sheets are being washed on the other side of the house. He welcomes the feeling of the bed around him, but his warmth isn’t real. His warmth isn’t warm enough.

Sonny climbs into bed with Rafael, which isn’t all that weird. Barba rolls onto his side, looking at the younger man.

“Get comfortable.” He murmurs. Sonny looks over at him.

“You don’t mind?”

“No.”

Sonny weighs that a moment before he gives in. He sits up, and in one motion his shirt is off of his body. It takes a little more struggling for him to get out of his bottoms, but once they’re with his shirt on the floor he lays back in the sheets. He looks so at ease.

_Talk to him dammit._

There’s another rumble of thunder. The bedroom is less exposed than the kitchen, but even so he can tell it’s closer.

Sonny’s hair splays out over his pillow. His body is exposed from the ribs up.

“Hold me.” Rafael finally gets out. Sonny’s head turns to look at him, shifting his locks as well. Rafael doesn’t look scared, but he does look wanton, like he’s starved for affection. Sonny scoots over and pulls him into a hug. Still, his body is stiff.

“No. No, really hold me.” He tries again. “I want…I want to feel you again. Please.”

This time Sonny hesitates. He doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know where this is going.

“You’re sure? You won’t be cold?”

“You’re warm.” Rafael insists. Carisi’s heart twists at how needy his husband looks. He relents, and tenderly goes about removing his clothes. Of course, he makes sure to keep him under the covers so he doesn’t catch a chill. Most of the bed noises are covered up by the rain getting heavier.

Barba clings to Carisi once his clothes are gone. He can feel it in the strength of his grasp that this is more about contact than warmth. His arms wrap around Sonny’s torso, while their legs get tangled up. He can feel the way Barba’s trying to disappear into him.

Sonny holds him close, indulging him in contact. He’s missed the feeling of them pressed skin to skin, no barriers. He can feel the way Rafael works to fill his lungs, while his nose is tucked right against Carisi’s neck. He holds Rafael, firm and unwavering while the weather picks up. The sense of their naked skin pressed together in so many places while the world outside their world storms brings them both back to that night.

That night in Liv’s bedroom, where Rafael was sure he was spending his last night with Sonny. They found comfort in each other’s touch, and a little bit of closure. With the way they’re wrapped around one another now, they can almost feel themselves sharing the memory. Each one can feel the other reliving that perilous night, where the only escape was in their embrace.

Rafael’s hand moves from where it’s pressed between Sonny’s back and the mattress, and wanders down to his thigh. He finds the spot where the skin is raised, and gently traces the perimeter of the perfect circle with his index finger. The palm of his opposite hand remembers so clearly pressing back against that flesh, looking for purchase in the real world, anchoring him away from his nightmares.

Rafael lifts his head just enough to meet Sonny’s eye, and he finds an incredibly loving gaze boring into him. It embarrasses him, that there’s this much love for someone like himself, that Rafael has to avert his eyes. The hand resting low on Rafael’s back moves, sliding up and over his skin before coming to rest on his chest. His own skin is still on the red side of pink, still raised and still hot. Gently, Sonny circles Rafael’s bullet wound with his third and fourth finger.

Barba shivers, from the touch and the amount of skin that’s no longer pressed against his husband.

He doesn’t fight when Carisi slowly pushes him onto his back, waiting for any form of resistance. When it doesn’t come, Sonny unwinds the top half of their bodies and leans himself down to kiss near the sore spot. Then, closer to it. His lips are warm. Even with the coolness left in their wake, his warmth is so tender that there’s no doubt it comes from a place of love.

Rafael rests a hand on the back of Carisi’s head, encouraging him to not leave his skin. He closes his eyes, and imagines Sonny’s lips taking away all the pain that literal hole in his chest has caused. He pictures all of his anger and rage and exhaustion being pulled out with every press of pink lips to pallid skin. Even when his lips keep moving, he feels an ease in his chest. The chasm of skin between his gunshot wound and his incision wound is bridged with kisses. That other line, also still a deep pink color, is covered completely in those same kisses.

“Tell me when to stop.” Sonny murmurs. For a moment, he wonders if his words were lost to the comforter and the patter of rain and the muffling of his lips against Rafael’s skin. But then there’s a squeeze to the back of his head, silently telling him he heard.

His lips travel, farther and farther down. They find the new dips in his thinned body, and the harder plains of bone where a little bit of fat used to cushion the landing.

Rafael’s glad he can’t see Sonny. His face darkens when he feels those lips pressing against his half-hard length. It has nothing to do with his semi-erection and everything to do with how he hasn’t groomed himself since before the incident, possibly before the trial even began. But Sonny doesn’t mind, he uses his hands to form a shield of sorts, holding back his overgrowth while his mouth works him over.

He shivers when Sonny’s lips leave his member, and keep traveling farther.  They make their way to his opening. His tongue makes its presence known, pushing out of his mouth and leaving a warm, wet layer of saliva over his incredibly sensitive skin.

It’s been so long…Rafael hasn’t given any thought to pleasuring himself since his near death experience. His body feels new again, tingling with heightened sensitivity the way abstinence always brings. Abstinence that Sonny hasn’t forgotten, explaining why he’s so thorough in working him over.

The kisses that trace back up his body are far more spaced out than the ones that led him down. Rafael’s hand drifts from Sonny’s hair to touch his cheek. His eyes are wide, searching, looking for any sign of resistance.

“I’ve missed you.” Rafael murmurs, while his other arm wraps around Sonny’s back, pulling him closer. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, Rafe.” He agrees, while his hips settle into place. “Just tell me if you need a break, or if you need to stop. Don’t exert yourself.”

“Okay.” He breathes, since it takes less energy than nodding would. Sonny reaches over to his side of the bed and finds a nice, soft pillow to place beneath Rafael’s tender, upstretched back. The last thing he wants to do is hurt him, after letting himself be put in such a vulnerable place.

As far as Sonny can stand it, he won’t let Rafael be hurt again.

Not by a person.

Not by a bullet.

Certainly not by their own love.

Their moment of passion comes and goes too quickly, but in its wake are two people finally together again. Reunited. Or on their way to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this story is on it's way to being done. I'm having mixed feelings.   
> But I shouldn't get ahead of myself because I still need to write it XD


	13. Reunion Adrift

“Do you want to go to sleep now?” Sonny asks, a hand resting on his husband’s cheek.

“No. Not yet. I just want to talk to you some more.”

“I won’t complain to that.” Sonny agrees, and pushes a piece of Rafael’s hair behind his ear. “Let’s see…so, you said you heard about what happened with the expungement and all that?”

“Yeah, Liv told me.”

“And…let’s see…well, every rapper seems to think you’re awesome now, talking about how you made Trump your bitch and survived being shot by a Klansman.”

“Good for me, I got shot and just barely lived.”

“Hey, come on.” Sonny pleads. Rafael looks down, and touches his chest gingerly.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Sonny pulls him closer, and kisses his forehead. The silence is heavy between them, making its presence known. That familiar, soul sucking silence that Carisi knows too well now. Only this time, it’s broken by Rafael.

“We’re not a very lucky pair, are we?”

“Meaning?” Sonny asks, forcing out a slight laugh.

“How many near death experiences is too many for one couple?”

There’s a small laugh, even smaller than before, but when Rafael looks at Sonny he sees pain.

“Or maybe it’s just me.”

“It’s not.”

“You were never shot before you were with me.”

Sonny rolls his eyes. “That had _nothing_ to do with you.”

“Hard not to see it. I’m cursed.”

“You do the right thing. You’re not cursed. The world just isn’t used to people who do the right thing. Same reason why they killed JFK, RFK, MLK, Ghandi, John Lennon-“

“Okay, okay.” Rafael cuts off, resting a hand on his chest to make him stop.

A few beats of silence. A few moments of ill ease.

“So…you know how…um…when people die, they see their loved ones?” Sonny tries. Rafael’s eyebrows would shoot up if his face didn’t ache from the unnatural amount he’s been talking.

“Uh…I suppose…”

Sonny nods and just lets his husband rest for a while, pausing the conversation.

“I saw my nana.”

Rafael’s eyes draw up, taking in Sonny’s face. Completely genuine.

“When I…y’know. I saw her. Just…if that’s something you experienced or not, if you wanted to talk about it, I’ll understand you.”

A dozen things slam down on Rafael all at once. A myriad of thoughts that he’s been trying hardest to keep down. All of them caught in his throat.

Rafael nods. And his stomach growls.

“Y’hungry?” Sonny asks.

“A little.”

“How about I fix you something easy and then you take your evening pills? That sound okay?”

Rafael nods, though his body clock doesn’t know from evening or morning. Between his nap and his lovemaking, he feels re-invigorated enough to walk out to the kitchen and eat a whole bowl of pasta when it’s put in front of him. He chases it with Gatorade, and his stomach feels thoroughly full.

When the clock ticks past ten, Rafael watches his husband pop the last of their dishes into the dishwasher before going over to the refrigerator.

Above it is a set of cabinets with handles that are close enough a lock can hold them together. Rafael stares, clutching his bottle of sports drink. He hasn’t even noticed that cabinet before.

_But when would you?_

It’s dual phase, with both a combination lock and a several number long code, though from here he can’t tell how many. He watches the way Sonny opens the lock with practiced ease and slides it out of place just enough to take out the bottles.

He dumps a half out of each bottle, then looks at Rafael before popping out another half of one of them. The bottles are replaced, and both locks are scrambled.

A stone lands in Rafael’s heart. He’d never thought of where those pills had been kept.

_No, but he had to think you thought about it. As far as he knew, you did._

Sonny comes over and holds out the tablets for Rafael. Which he takes.

“Thank you.”

Sonny smiles, just a little.

“Of course.”

_Of course. Of course he knows. Of course he knows you better than anyone else and loves you anyway._

****

In the morning, there’s an extra pill. A whole pill. A pill that Rafael hasn’t seen before, since his zombified state left him without the will to open his eyes before the sun was in the sky. Now, when Sonny jiggles his shoulders, he wakes up enough that the light of the lamp helps him the rest of the way. He takes the two halves, and the whole, and downs it with his hydrating liquid of choice.

“So you’re always up at this time?” Rafael asks. Sonny thinks a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, every day. I sleep like eight to two, eight to four, something like that.”

“What’ve you been doing all that time?” Rafael asks, looking up at him from his place on the bed. Sonny thinks a moment.

“Reading. Some TV, not a whole lot. Talking to people on the phone.”

“Not this early.”

Sonny chuckles, and Rafael imitates the noise, sending a zing through his chest.

“You’d be surprised.” Sonny adds, then shakes his head. “No, no I’m just kidding. This early I like to watch the sun rise.”

“Really?”

“Sure. You can see it come up over the ocean from our patio.”

 _Oh. Right. We have a patio._  

“How’re you feeling?” Sonny asks. Rafael takes a minute to assess his usual aches, but his joints feel less like they’re filled with lead.

“Uh…I’m okay, I think.”

“Come watch the sun rise with me, then.”

Rafael thinks about it for all of ten seconds before he’s getting out of bed. There’s still pain when he moves, the rest of his body pulling at scar tissue. But he can manage.

Sonny hands Rafael his Fordham sweatshirt with the warning that ‘it’ll be cold’ but he’s undeterred. He slides it on, and follows Sonny out, through the kitchen and into the living room, where the door to the back patio is. And sure enough, they have a perfect view of the ocean waves lapping at the shore, while the sun makes it’s lazy assent into the sky.

The sit on an outdoor sofa, which is just big enough for the two of them.

An arm slings around Rafael’s shoulders.

His head rests on that arm’s shoulder.

The colors and the warmth of the body next to him, even with the cold breeze on his face, soothes his tender brain. Letting him think. Letting him really think.

The rainbow cast over the sky calms his aching nerves. His eyes can’t close, even with how relaxed he is.

“I saw my abuelita.” Rafael murmurs. The hand resting against his body gently strokes the fabric of his shirt.

“And my father.”

“Did they look how you remembered?”

“No. He looked young. And…” he sighs. “He felt different.”

Sonny waits.

“He wasn’t angry. He was…god, it felt…”

He watches the curve and break of the waves.

“It felt like he really loved me. Hell, I thought it was just my brain dying, thinking up how I would’ve liked to remember my father.”

Some ambient silence.

“They were talking about you. How it would’ve broken your heart to be without me.”

“Smart people.” Sonny answers, squeezing his shoulder.

“I wasn’t sure if they were real. I wanted them to be.”

“You see a white light? But, like, kinda soft white? Like the kind that didn’t hurt to look at?”

Rafael’s heart clenches. “Yes.”

“It was real.”

Rafael breathes out softly, and the inhale that follows brings in cold, salty air like all the ones before it. But this one brings relief.

_He understands. Of course he understands._

Rafael feels time pass in the way the colors the sun gives off change, become more unified in their tones. The silence is punctuated by the crashing waves.

"I can see why people want their ashes sprinkled over the ocean. It seems like a lovely place to spend eternity." Rafael speaks when the reds and pinks of the rising sun have turned pale orange.

"Did you want to be cremated?" Sonny asks. Rafael lifts his head to take in his face clearly surprised. 

"Uh...either or. I'm not sure how picky I'll be."

"You can be cremated. I just have to move things around, but it's not a problem."

He blinks a few times. "Move things around?"

Sonny sighs, pulling his arm tighter around him. "After...everything, I realized we didn't have anything in place. I was going to bring this up when you were better, but no time like the present. I got us plots in the cemetery that my parents have theirs in. I tried getting ones in the place your abuelita's buried, the one where your mom has her plot, but they gave me a million and one reasons why they didn't have a plot for 'people like us.'” He rolls his eyes. 

"When did you do this?"

He shrugs. "While you were in the hospital. Called a lawyer, called cemeteries, all that. Like I said, I was waiting until you were better before bringing it up, because I need us to go over the will."

Rafael's face twists, and his empty stomach clenches. 

"So...there's a headstone somewhere with both our names on it?"

"Well not yet. Not for a few months. Don't think about using it so soon."

"I know, I know. Just...the thought of you...you know."

"I know. But you know what my job is like. Honestly I can't believe we hadn’t done this already.”

“And you took care of it, like you took care of me.”

“In sickness and health, remember?”

_Sickness. I’ll say._

"You've gone through hell these last few months" Rafael murmurs. Sonny sighs out of his nose and puts his hands on Rafael’s face.

"You remember what you did when I got shot? Or better yet, when I almost got killed over the summer? You remember that? For two straight fucking weeks I was a wreck. I was an anxious fucking wreck. And you came home every day, leaving at like friggin' five, to be here with me. I don't want you thinking you're just taking from me because that's not how it works. We give and we take. And maybe if we give and we take enough, we won't be whole again, but close to it. More than we ever would be alone."

Rafael blinks back tears and leans up, planting his lips on his husband’s, memorizing the feel of those lips. Those sweet, precious, pink lips that form around and caress his own.

“I love you.” Sonny murmurs when they pull away to breathe, the warmth between them making Rafael shiver under his sweatshirt.

_I know you do._

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long you guys. Ugh, I really wish I had finished off this story before I came to college, but at the same time I can't say I regret writing Context because it's so unique and interesting and I still love it.   
> Anyway, sorry, here's the new chapter. Only five to go!


	14. Reverse Departure

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course I am.”

“But you’re _sure_ sure? You’re really sure?”

“Yes, I’m really sure. Stop hoping I’ll change my mind.”

“All I’m saying” Sonny toys with the tie he’s holding “is that if they gave you until the end of the year, you should take it.”

“If I wait until then I might not want to go back.”

“If your decision is that fragile-“

“Hermoso, please, I’m not going to change my mind. Please.” Rafael takes the tie from Sonny’s hands and pecks his lips before looping it around his neck. Carisi smiles. Just barely.

“That’s not fair. Not at all.”

“Sure it is.”

“No it’s not, and you know it. You just want me to be nice to you when I walk you to work.”

“I would appreciate it, but I’m fine with you pouting the whole way there, too.”

“You really should be nicer to your protector.”

“Fine.” Rafael softens his tone and shoots a smile his husband’s way while dabbing on cologne. Despite the routine being alien to Rafael, it’s just like riding a bike. He falls into the old habits, though there’s something missing.

Something like his rib. But that’s not really it.

No, it’s his safety. There’s a certain fragility that hovers around them when they step out the door, even with Sonny’s arm around him, keeping his body close.

His eyes never rest. They’re constantly on the move, searching for the next threat.

The next gun.

The next bullet.

Rafael’s awash with relief when it doesn’t come. He makes it to his office in tact, hand in hand with his personal hero.

“Mr. Barba.” Carmen rises from her seat. “I thought you were going to work from home.”

“I can’t focus there. Not until he goes back to work anyway.” Rafael jokes, and squeezes Sonny’s hand, while his brain screams at him to not let go.

“When do you go back?”

“Next Wednesday.” Sonny answers. “So, y’know, for now he’s stuck with me.” He leans in closer to her and pretends to whisper. “I know that’s the real reason why he’s coming back so early. I’d be sick of me after, like, eight weeks too. “

Carmen chuckles. Rafael doesn’t.

“I think I’m going to get settled. Help me out?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sonny agrees, and follows Rafael into his office, briefcase in hand.

There are several boxes worth of fanmail waiting for Rafael to read them.

“You know why I came back today, right?”

Sonny’s head lifts from the impressive sight, wondering what kind of language those pages hold. “Yeah, because if you don’t go back now you won’t ever want to.”

“To an extent. But there’s more to it than that.”

“Is it that you don’t want to be alone in our apartment?”

Rafael shrugs. “So you did know why.”

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

“Is that odd?”

“Not at all. It’s okay, really. I wouldn’t want to be alone either, after everything you went through.”

Rafael nods and takes a seat at his desk. Sonny waits around, being told to leave.

“You’ll come back for me, right?”

Sonny looks over at him, his face turning sad. “Of course I’ll come back for you. I love you. You don’t know that, babe?”

“Lo siento, mi héroe.”

The words soften his frown. “I’ll say it again, that’s not fair.”

Rafael keeps the triumphant smile off his face this time, settling for a lingering kiss and a good, long hug that warms his skin even after his lover is gone. Rafael sits at his desk, already feeling the pull to his work.

And yet, his brain is stuck. He sees his books, he sees his laptop, he sees his legal pads, but he can’t bring himself to lift his hands. He’s frozen in fear, as if a handgun hides among legal knowledge. It’s the same sensation that’s kept him from his nightly law reading, and put him a few months behind the curve ball when it comes to catching up on ever evolving precedents.

He thinks maybe, just maybe he can find the will he needs when a knock startles him.

“Come in.”

The hefty frame that moves through the door is a shock, and makes Barba stand .

“Buchanan. Jesus, how fast does word travel around here?”

“Gotta keep up Barba. Also, I’ve been calling here every morning to see when you’re coming back. Nice move surprising Carmen with your return.”

“I wasn’t sure when I’d be coming back.”

“Well it’s a relief to see you back.”

“Really? You’re happy to see someone who’s going to make your job harder?” He asks, sitting down after a handshake.

Buchanan chuckles and passes his briefcase from one hand to the other. “Court’s no fun without a little competition. Anyway, just wanted to come by and see how The Great Rafael Barba is doing after everything.”

“Please don’t use that ruined word on me.”

“What? Someone saying your great again bother you?”

Barba glares a moment before they share a silent laugh.

“I must say, this Thanksgiving I was very glad that there’s no Twitter in prison.”

“Yes, yes of course. Among other things, Twitter has been reclaimed.”

“Though I don’t mind telling you, I’m sick of Twitter. I spent weeks staring at tweets from that vile yam, now it’s the only thing I think of when I look at it.”

“True. Very true. But you don’t have to see his face on those lists of presidents they sell in D.C.”

“Right, right because of the expungement. Now there’s my new favorite word.”

“Thanks to you.”

Barba chuckles. “Thanks to a smart jury.”

“And you and your detectives.”

“Aren’t you glad you weren’t working for the defense?”

“Please Barba, I may have a propensity for courtroom theatrics, but not to that extent. Besides, I was proven right. Sofia Crane, Lester Cohen, Roger Logansworth- none of them were paid.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack. The U.S. Government liquidated the entirety of Trump’s wealth to pay themselves back for everything he cost them, and still they couldn’t pay his lawyers.”

Barba smirks. “Man. This just gets better and better.”

“Well you can find out all about the demise of Trump by googling him. Though, don’t be surprised, your name will come up.”

“No, really? What a shock. Did you want something with me, Buchanan? Or did you just want to revel in having a Trump-free America?”

“Oh, we’ve all been doing plenty of that. Who doesn’t love knowing that his children don’t get to sponge off his ill-gotten gains anymore? But no, I just wanted to drop in and say hello. It’s good seeing you again in this office, back in your element.”

The answer startles Barba into silence. Buchanan just smiles and shrugs.

“I won’t take up any more of your time, I’m sure you’ve already got too much to do. But it was good seeing you, Barba.”

“Good seeing you too, Buchanan.” Rafael shakes the man’s hand, once again confounded by his kind behavior. Buchanan makes his exit, but the door doesn’t close behind him before he hears someone else’s voice outside his office.

“Buchanan.”

“Chief.”

“Good to see you.” The older voice makes Rafael’s nerves curdle, and his annoyance spark. Sure enough, Chief Dodds walks through his office door, removing his hat when he does.

“Chief, don’t you look dapper. I hope that whole uniform wasn’t just for me.”

The silver haired man laughs and shakes his head.

“No, sorry Counselor. I just came from a COMPSTAT meeting for Queens SVU. Heard you were back.”

“You and everyone else. Have you come to see me in my natural habitat too?”

“No, not quite. I…well, counselor” the chief crosses his arms as best he can while still holding his hat. “I felt I owed you some kind of apology.”

That gives Barba pause, makes him look at the older man before him. “Did you now?”

“Yes, I did. I know we haven’t had the most amicable of relationships, but you’ve always done the right thing. I’m sorry we didn’t have better protection for you and your colleagues.”

Rafael glances down at his desk a moment, fighting back the flashes of memory that come to mind. “Nobody could have protected us after that.”

“We could have. Our department could’ve done better by you, and I’m sorry we didn’t.”

_Look at this. Chief William knows-just-how-to-cover-his-ass Dodds is literally apologizing to me with his hat in hand._

“I’ll accept your apology, regardless of how I feel about you otherwise.”

“Otherwise?”

“I’m still not a fan of the blatant disregard you showed for the reckless prosecution of one of your beloved brothers in blue, but you backed the right horse this time. You didn’t tell Liv to back off, you didn’t try to hush anything up. This time, you made the right choice.”

The chief nods, looking from the wall to the man before him once again.

“Between us? Well, it doesn’t have to stay between us. I’m not embarrassed by this. I wanted America’s nightmare to be over too, and it is because of that choice.”

“It was going to happen one way or another. But I’m glad we helped break it all wide open, show the world what that man is really like. Not like his Neo-Nazis feel any differently.”

“They’re without a champion, now. Taking him down de-legitimized all of his insanity. As it should be.”

“That’s true.”

There’s a moment’s lull before the Chief speaks.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry about what happened with Detective Carisi. I haven’t turned my phone off since then.”

Again, Rafael’s given pause. He gives the man before him a long, appraising look before deciding he really means it.

“Thank you, Chief.”

“It’s not worth much now, but, you both deserved better.”

****

Amanda and Fin are there when Sonny walks in, and the moment they spot him they are on their feet, welcoming him with hugs. He hugs them back, his eyes closing as he hears their voices in person again. He realizes just how badly he’s missed the two of them, and his eyes prick with tears. They’re reabsorbed by the time he pulls away.

“Wow. The place is still standing. Who could have guessed?”

“Well we weren’t going to let you come back to a smoking crater, now were we?” Amanda asks, and pats him on the back.

“Now that I’m back the crater watch is probably going to go up.”

“Hey, man quit it.” Fin chides. “We missed the hell outta you. Not the same without you here.”

“I’m sure. Must’ve been a lot quieter.”

“Not like you would think. Your temp was no wallflower.”

“That’s good, at least.” Sonny’s heart twinges when he remembers his momentarily being replaced. He takes a breath and lets go of the two of them before looking around. The empty desk across from Fin is no longer empty. It’s not full either. It looks like the desk of someone who hasn’t shown up yet for the day.

“Alright, I’m gonna go say hi to Liv.” Carisi says, and goes to push back his hair. Only then does he remember that it’s long again, long enough that it’s brushing his collar, so he sweeps it up into a ponytail before approaching her door. His heart rate rises a little when he sees her sat at her desk, head down, looking at her computer. She looks up before he can knock, and a smile pulls over her face.

“Carisi. Wow, look at you, welcome back.”

“Glad to be back, Lieu. I’ve missed it here.” He cracks his knuckles. “I know I gotta catch up on everything. What should I do first?”

“The first thing you’re going to do” she gets out of her chair “is give me a hug.”

He smiles, and Liv feels a familiar warmth flow through her at the sight of it. She closes the space between them and closes her eyes. His skinny arms wrap around her tighter than after the charges were dropped, and after they were rescued. On reflex, she buries her face in his neck, even though the scent of his cologne is as overwhelming. One of his hands rubs her back. It’s probably her imagination, but Carisi feels even warmer than he used to.

It goes on like this for a few minutes, until it’s real to both of them that they are here and they are alive and they are going to be okay. When they pull away, she can’t help just lightly patting his face, which is always so sweet and expressive. A face she’s deeply missed seeing every day. More than she missed Elliot’s.

They both take a deep breath before she leans back and sits on her desk. “The second thing you’re going to do is tell me…how is he?”

His face pinches with pain, and he looks down at his hands before looking at her again.

“Better. So much better. He went back to work last week. But for a while it was…rough. The first few days. The first few _weeks_ just…oh my god, it was hard. You know he just…he wouldn’t _speak_.”

“At all?”

“No. Not a word. He wouldn’t say anything unless I forced him to. I had to pull the words out of him with the jaws of life. God, it was hard. I could go days, maybe even weeks without his voice. I was so scared…I locked everything up. I didn’t want him doing something stupid if I was gone. But the I’d come back and he literally had not moved an inch. He was sleeping. Or pretending to be sleep. After a while it was like they were one in the same.”

He takes a deep breath. “Sometimes he’d just get choked up, maybe cry a little, but it was so hard because it hurt. He was hurting so bad. And he didn’t want to eat…I swear, he must’ve lost thirty, forty pounds…oh my god, Lieu…” He trails off, his own eyes brimming once again. This time a few fall. She rests a hand on the arm that isn’t wiping away tears.

“But he’s better, right?”

“Yeah…yeah he’s better now.” Carisi nods, taking another lung-filling breath. “He just needed a little time, but he came back to me. I knew he would come back to me, and he did. And from then on, we were okay. We’re still okay. He’s way better now. You should come see him later, if you can manage it. He hasn’t said it, but he misses you.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She nods, her heart breaking at the thought of both of them in pain. “How about you? How’re you doing with today?”

“Good…okay…better than I thought I’d be. Got another new gun so I won’t be afraid to use it. How’s the new guy?”

“He’s…” She makes a careful face, and for a second Sonny wonders how many times that face was made at the thought of him “intense. He’s good with victims but he’s a bit like Nick when it comes to handling perps.”

“Oh. Oh boy.”

“And he’s a Sikh, so that surprised me. I thought he would be more passive than he is.”

“Huh.” Carisi nods. “Well, alright then. Good to know.”

“He should be in at any time now. Say hello to him.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Bet he can’t wait to meet the guy he’s been living in the shadow of.”

She chuckles. “Don’t worry, he’s not easily overwhelmed. He’s good here, really taken to working at SVU. He might be a permanent addition.”

Sonny nods, despite the strengthening in his disappointment.

 _You might need him_.

“It’s good to be back, and to see you. We’ll have you and Noah over soon.”

“We shouldn’t wait. Noah’s missed the hell out of you two.”

That makes his smile return. “Aw, poor guy. I’ve missed him too. I promise, soon as our place is in working order again, we’ll have you over.”

“Glad to hear it. In the meantime, you should know that things are slow at the moment. We’ll find something for you to do, but nothing too exciting has happened lately.”

“Hey, listen, after what happened last time I think I can live with a little less ‘excitement.’”

They share a laugh as Liv follows him to the door of her office, only for her gaze to get caught on something. His follows, before resting on the person that replaced him. Liv takes the lead, and guides Sonny over to the other man.

“Detective Carisi, I’d like to introduce you to Detective Nassir Arnaja.”

The guy is younger than Carisi, for sure, even with the long beard. His eyes are bright, his face full of life.

“Wow, what an honor to finally meet you.”

“Well it’s good to meet you too.” Sonny agrees, and shakes the hand offered to him. He takes in this man, with his tan skin and scarved head. _Donald Trump would fucking hate this guy._

“I’m Nassir, but everyone here keeps calling me Nas, so you’re free to do the same.”

“Nas? Like the rapper?”

“So they tell me.” The younger man laughs, and squeezes Sonny’s hand before he lets go. “I really can’t wait to work with you. I know it’s not easy here, and after everything you went through to then come back here-“

“We’re just trying to keep things easy here for the moment.” Liv cuts in, looking at the enthused man. “Last weeks before Christmas are usually a slow time, so it’s a good time for him to ease back into things.”

“Of course, of course.” Nas agrees, nodding along. “Well, like always, if you need anything, just let me know.” He says in perfectly unaccented English.

“Good to know.” Sonny says. “Trust me, I know it’s tough here. If you weren’t worth having around they would’ve chucked you by now. Or maybe they wouldn’t have. After all, I’m still here.”

Nas laughs.

Liv sighs. “We’re glad we didn’t.”

“Oh sure, now you are.” He laughs, then sighs too. “Anyway, you’re in good company here.”

“I know. And, like I said, I look forward to working with you too.”

Sonny’s glad for this man and his open joy, clearly motivated. He settles down once he’s behind his desk, and it seems the novelty of Carisi’s return wears off with that. He’s glad for that too, since it gives him time to straighten himself up, organize his things, make himself at home at his desk again.

Or try to. Try to feel normal again.

And why shouldn’t he? Nothing’s changed. The desks are the same desks, the people are (mostly) the same people, the annoying wireless printer still needs a few smacks before it will spit anything out. Carisi has no reason not to feel at home here.

People walk in and out.

The phone rings.

With the stacks of papers he needs to get through, it doesn’t occur to Carisi to try picking up and catching a case.

“Uh…Carisi?” Nas says, making his head pop up. “There’s someone on line two for you?” 

“Okay.” He says, and picks up the phone for the first time. “Hello?…oh, hi…yeah, I’m alright, you?…uh huh….uh huh…no, nothing right now, but I’ll let you know…uh huh…yeah…yeah?…well that’s good…what, you miss me or something?” He chuckles slightly before his face relaxes back to normal. His eyes stay fixed on the rosary-draped picture frame on his desk. 

“Uh huh…yeah, and today’s Wednesday, so…okay…I dunno, I’ll have to see…okay…okay?…yeah, okay…alright, I love you…” 

His face presses into a smile, and he breathes out a laugh. “Ok, bye.” 

He hangs up. Rollins looks up from her paperwork. 

“Barba?” 

“Barba.” Sonny nods. “Just staying in the loop. You know. He says hello by the way.”

“He’s back at work already?” Fin asks. “Thought they got off the rest of the year.”

“Yeah, they did but, y’know, it’s Barba.”

Rollins chuckles. “Nice to know that hasn’t changed.”

“Yeah, like anything’s going to shut him up.”

Sonny’s own words smack him back, making his heart and stomach clench and wiping the smile off his face.

“Nothing’s going to change that, it seems.” Fin says, and goes back to his work.

Nas observes the conversation he has nothing to contribute to, his mind clicking over all of it.

_So Rafael Barba actually loves this guy…huh…_

His thoughts are interrupted by another ringing phone, which he picks up.

“SVU…okay…” he jots down what the panicked voice on the other end is telling him, and hangs up after a moment. “Just got a call, woman found nearly dead, looks like she was raped.”

“Where to?” Sonny asks, already getting out of his seat.

“Who says you’re going?” Rollins asks.

“Says the guy who can’t stand the thought of being a desk donkey. I did that already, remember? And it fucking sucked.” He throws on his jacket. “That alright with you, Nas?”

“Sure, sure, that works for me.” He agrees, letting him take the lead. Which he does, taking the wheel of the squad car they get into. He also takes the lead in talking to witnesses at the scene, and whoever else is around. An in-person how-to guide on how to act as part of SVU.

“So, Nas, you’re likin’ it at SVU?” Sonny asks him the first non work-related question all morning once they’re headed back to the precinct. He thinks a moment, very aware that he’s talking to _the_ Carisi, the lawyer who got shot on the job and who’s wedding pictures he was shown despite not knowing half the people in them.

“It’s good work. Very gratifying knowing that you get to help people this way.”

“Sure is. Any bricks come flying through the precinct windows yet?”

The younger man laughs. “No, not yet anyway. I hope it stays that way.”

“Seriously? Wow, guess the Nazis figured they should keep a low profile for a while.”

“Seems so.”

“I guess proving that you’re not afraid to kill one of them helps.” The playful edge vanishes from his voice. “Which is good. Nazis should be afraid of the police.”

“I guess you would think that.” Nas says, only to regret it. “I mean, y’know, because you’re a lawyer and a cop and with what happened to Barba. All that. You would want them to be afraid of you. Well, not _just_ you but of course you-“

“Wow, did I sound like you when I got here?” His ease is back. Nas laughs it off.

“Sorry. I just don’t want to say anything stupid.”

“Can I tell ya somethin’? Doing this job you realize how much of the shit you normally say really is dumb. But that’s a good thing because it means you become less of an idiot.”

“Ah…” He nods, looking out the window at the slow moving traffic.

“Though I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t at all personal. I mean, they almost killed hom. They put him through hell. He was just…” He clears his throat. “Yeah. It was bad.”

“So you guys are really-“

“A couple?” He laughs. “Yeah. I know. Hard to believe.”

“I was going to say close.”

“Oh. Yeah. That too. We’re real tight. If he’d died…” he takes a deep breath. “We’re different, and we’re kinda weird together, but we’ve made each other better people for it.”

The air is heavy with the unfinished thought. Sonny clears his throat again.

“What about you, Nas? You got anyone special in your life?”

“Oh, no, no, no not at all. I’m married to the job. And I’m a bit much.”

“Well, so’s Barba. There’s a lid for every pot, and an ass for every saddle. If you want, or even if you don’t want, chances are you’ll find someone.”

“Yes, but Barba has the appearances to back it up.”

Sonny laughs. “Maybe. Either way, I’m telling him you said that. He’ll get a laugh out of that.”

“Please don’t tell him that first. Say something else besides mentioning ‘oh yes, and he also thinks you’re attractive.”

“Can do. Making a first impression to him is hard, I promise I’ll talk you up, especially if you’re going to be sticking around. Just a heads up though, he’s still a hardass. That hasn’t changed.”

“Even to you?”

“At work? Sure. We keep our professional and private lives separate. You know, it’s better for us that way.”

“I kinda figured, watching the trial and all-“

“Ugh, that goddamn trial. I mean, as a law nerd and an American I’m glad it happened but just…fuck…” He sighs. “Sorry, I cut you off.”

“No, not at all. I was just going to say that you were very professional throughout it all. Even when people attacked you both for it.”

“If you’re talking about the oompa loompa’s lawyers, we can handle them. And if you’re talking about the media, well I don’t pay attention to them. Anyway.” He says, and parks the car, ending their conversation.

The familiarity of the board, where the timeline of events comes together gives Sonny some ease. Fin and Amanda leave, and return after talking to the very doped up victim, filling in the picture they have. When it seems they have enough, Sonny texts his husband –we caught a case, come by.-

He strides through the doors some time later, after even more of the image has come together. Any gaze that rest on him last a few moments longer than normal. All those gazes push his blood pressure up and make his right lung throb, but he keeps it off his face when he makes it to the space the detectives are gathered.

“Welcome back, Counselor.” Liv offers, making the rest of the group turn their heads. Her hand falls on the youngest member’s shoulder. “This is Detective Nassir Arnaja, call him Nas.”

“Like the rapper?” He chuckles. “Rita will get a kick out of that. Welcome to the shit show, what’ve we got here?”

They launch into their explanations, taking turns while Barba nods along. There are a few anticipatory pauses, waiting for his  jabs or quips. They’re waiting for his usual antics, but he doesn’t speak. He nods, he sits on their table and looks it all over, silent until the end.

“Alright…looks good to me.”

“Uh, yeah, except for the gap.” Sonny says after an odd pause.

“The gap?” Rafael asks. Sonny walks over to the board, pointing to the timeline.

“Yeah, this forty-five-minute gap. We got it narrowed down from two hours but still.”

“Right. Of course.” Barba tilts his head, giving the board a closer look. “Alright then. Call me when you get that gap filled in.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Sonny offers when Barba takes up his briefcase. He follows close to Rafael’s side, the two of them falling into step. They wait a solid minute before anyone speaks.

“Wow….” Amanda says.

“Don’t dwell on it.” Fin says. “Guy’s just getting his mojo back, probably all overwhelmed from the walk here.”

“Probably, but still.” Liv says. Nas, who’s been quiet all this time, has a feeling he’s made public an embarrassment that should remain within a family. He keeps quiet as they justify for Barba, saying that he just needs some time, until a loud noise comes from outside. Immediately they rush to the window that faces the front of the building, Liv prying it open to look out.

“What happened?” She yells down.  She notices Sonny clutching Rafael to his chest, her heart pounding. “Are you two okay?”

“I’m fine! Everything’s fine!” Rafael pulls away to yell. “Just a stupid car backfire! Don’t everyone rush to help with nothing all at once, okay?!”

His voice cracks. Everyone’s hearts break, just a little.

“Copy that.” She yells down. Sonny pulls Rafael close again, out of view of the windows and the people on the street who can’t resist staring at the trembling guy. Back into the building, into a private room.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Rafael murmurs, hiding his face against Sonny’s neck.

“Shh, it’s okay baby.” Sonny tries, rubbing his husband’s back.

“I-I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to-“

“Baby, it’s okay, just calm down.” Sonny talks over him, still soothing him. He does this until the room is silent again, and Sonny can feel Rafael’s pulse his fallen back to normal.

“I’m sorry…”

“I know, Rafe.” Sonny murmurs, and kisses his cheek before pulling away to meet his eye. “You got scared, you pushed me out of the way. It was a reflex. You weren’t trying to hurt me.”

“I know, I know, but-“

“Hey, come on, I’m okay. Really, babe. Please, I know you were just scared.”

Rafael swallows, and lets himself be quiet. He has to scramble, pulling the re-shattered pieces of his psyche back into place while Sonny’s arms stay wrapped around his body, holding him together physically. The warmth of his body makes it easier to piece himself back together.

“Hey, you’re done now, right? For the day?” Sonny asks gently. Rafael nods, opening his eyes to look down at the floor behind Sonny.

“How about I take you to Dr. Lindstrom’s? I’m sure Liv won’t mind.”

“You…” His nerves get the best of him, squeezing around his throat, and his lungs.

“I’ll just go run up and get my stuff. They can handle this case without me for ther rest of the day.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Sonny’s voice is firm when he pulls away, but the hand wrapped around his shirt keeps him from walking away. It stops Sonny short, and makes him turn back, his face the picture of patience.

Rafael opens his mouth to speak, but takes a few breaths before the words come together.

“Te amo, mi héroe.”

Sonny’s hands cup his face, and those tender blue eyes look into Rafael’s. “I love you too, babe. So much. I promise I’ll always protect you. Here, come here.” Sonny pulls him back in for another tender hug.

 _I’m sorry_ Rafael thinks, letting his eyes close and his body melt into the touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, people! A new chapter of Search! Man, I've missed posting this story, now here it is. 
> 
> Lol, okay, now I have to go do some homework. Wish me luck! Stay tuned for something to be updated on Saturday. 
> 
> Have a good rest of your week.


	15. Holiday Gifted

Admittedly, Rafael’s stunned by Sonny’s sisters. He doesn’t have his coat off before the three of them are crowding around the couple, trying to pull him in for a hug all at once, earning a less than joking “Don’t break him” from Sonny.

Still, Rafael gets passed from sister to sister like a hot potato, and Rafael chuckles between hellos.

“Aw, look at you. You look great!” Bella, the last sister that gets to hug him says. “God, look at you, good as new.”

“Come on Bella, I wasn’t that ‘new’ to begin with.”

She laughs and pushes him, just barely, on the shoulder. “You know what I mean. Anyway, You ready to party? It’s gonna be lit, we got some of the cousins around.”

“Anyone I know?”

“How would you know them?”

“From the funeral, I mean.”

“Oh…” Bella says, her face turning dark a moment before she shakes her head. “No, nobody from Dad’s side. This is mom’s side.”

“Really?” Sonny’s face lights up before he disappears into the living room. The chorus of “Ayyyyyyyyy!”s that Rafael hears make him laugh, this time hard enough to send a twinge through his chest, before he follows. He sees his husband being passed between a half dozen people close to his age, all with big smiles and bright eyes and skin as pale as the rest of Sonny’s family. They’re all so…loud. They crowd the room, and whatever space they don’t fill with their bodies is filled with their voices. Rafael’s anxiety throws in some imaginary camera flashes as he waits by the doorway.

“A’right guys, don’t be weird.” Sonny finally extracts himself from all their holds and goes to Rafael, leading him over. There’s something in his walk, like he knows he’s the only barrier between Rafael and an startled herd. “Guys, I know you already know him- how the hell could you not, right? Rafael Barba. Rafe, this is Gianna, Mary Ann, Margret, Angelica, Joey, and Vinny.”

“You actually have a cousin Vinny.”

“Babe, c’man, you’ve seen how much family I got, I’ve got three cousins named Vinny, and those are just the ones I know about.”

“Woah” Joey says. Sonny cocks his head.

“Wha? What’s a matter with you?”

“Nothin’, just…weird…this dude’s your babe. I don’t see it.”

“The fuck do you call your spouse? Oh wait-“

“Hey Sonny, quit it” the man reaches over to push Sonny, and he pushes back, both of them laughing.

“Is that Sonny I hear?” A shrill female voice comes from the kitchen before a woman who looks incredibly similar to Valerie enters.

“Aunt Shiela!” Sonny bounds over to her and embraces her, and the woman practically screams as he takes her into his arms. She mutters into his shoulder in muffled half-English, half-Italian, and she scatters a few kisses across his cheek.

“Ah yes, ma’s long lost son has come home once again.” Joey says, making no attempt to hide his snideness.

“Oh shut your mouth, Joseph. I’ve missed my favorite nephew.” She gives Sonny a few more kisses and another good, long squeeze.

“Aw, I missed you too Aunt Shiela. Hey, I’ve got someone for you to meet.” Once again the attention is on Rafael. He gives her a half smile, and her face elongates in shock. “This is Rafe.”

“Wow. Would you look at that. Damn, it’s nice to meet a friggin’ national hero.” She reaches out and shakes his hand. “You look uh…different, in person.”

“It’s okay, you’re allowed to say ‘shorter’.”

Shiela laughs and smacks him in the chest and everyone gasps. Shiela does too, her hands flying up to her face when she realizes what she’s done. “Oh my god, I’m so- so- oh my god! How could I be such a fucking idiot?!”

Rafael’s hand comes up to rub his chest, but he offers a strained smile. “Don’t worry about it-“

“How can I?! I hit you!”

“Aunt Shiela-“ Sonny tries.

“Really, it’s alright” Rafael insists. “I’m not so brittle. The rib they reconstructed is probably stronger than any of yours.”

“Yeah, they used some shit called ‘bone cement’” Sonny says, then shudders. “Seriously though, Aunt Shiela, how bout you lay off hitting people until you’re a little drunker, huh?”

She gives a nervous laugh before falling back into the kitchen, and Sonny follows. Rafael does too, where he’s given a glass of water and some greetings from the Carisi parents, and Sonny’s Uncle Steven. Rafael’s silently thankful, for their six children’s sakes that they didn’t decide to give them all ‘S’ names too. The topic of choice is food, an easy choice given the feast in various stages of doneness. Rafael recognizes the dishes that he sees: manicotti, eggplant parm, baked chicken, baked ziti, lasagna. There are a few industrial sized pots sitting on the stove, and both Shiela and Valerie’s aprons are well used. Rafael feels a little bubble of affection every time Sonny dips a finger onto the back of a spoon or into a dish so he can take a taste, then gives his exaggerated reactions.

Rafael also notices the way Dominick Senior keeps looking his way, but in the crowded kitchen there’s no room to talk. No room for much besides talk of food and eating food.

A full spread is laid out in the kitchen that keeps the kids (such as thirty and forty something’s can be kids) in. Deli meats, cheeses, breads, olives, all of inviting. And Rafael’s not rude. The little plate he makes for himself is a good distraction from the attempts at discrete attention he keeps getting. Steven in particular, a guy with almost no hair and an even thicker accent than Sonny, keeps throwing looks at Rafael, but he doesn’t speak to Rafael. And that’s just fine. He knows he won’t have that same luxury when dinner is served.

But dinner is going to be a while (somehow) and as much as Sonny loves his parents, he wants to sit and talk with his cousins. And Rafael follows, not wanting to be left alone with Sonny’s parents and their attempts at questions. Rafael seems to fade into the wallpaper as the cousins, guys and girls alike, go on and on about their personal lives. Hookups, breakups, new jobs, quitting jobs, friends, all that jazz. They talk and talk and their voices take up so much room that there’s no room for Rafael’s. His listening wanders in and out as the conversation goes from what’s happening now to what happened in the past, with stories about childhood recklessness.

It’s almost sickeningly nostalgic. There’s a whole lot of “you remember when”s and “how about that time”s but Rafael thinks about the drink in his hand instead.

“What about you, man?” The question is on the peripheries of Rafael’s attention. Sonny’s elbow gently nudges into his arm, and he takes his vision off the generic painting hanging on the Carisi’s living room wall.

“Sorry?” Rafael asks. “Did I miss something?”

“Nah, Vinny’s just being his usual dumbass self.”

“Ay, fuck you,” Vinny laughs, and Sonny flips him off before they laugh themselves out. “So, like, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” 

“Uh…as a lawyer?” 

“Nah, just, like, in general, what’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done? How’d such a smart, reasonable guy like you end up with friggin’ Sonny? You must’ve had some kinda wild streak.” 

Rafael mulls that over, then sets his glass down on the coffee table. Better off, it’s empty anyway. “Well, let me preface my answer by saying I think you think of your cousin as the teenaged version you had wild times with. Personally, I’ve known Sonny to be sensible, thoughtful, and capable of making difficult decisions with very little support. With that said, the wildest thing I’ve done…” he thinks a moment, then he glances at Sonny. His husband’s gaze is neutral. 

“Well, when I was in college, cliché I know, I let my friend give me a naval piercing.” 

“Woah- wait, what?” Vinny, and the rest of the cousins, scoff. Rafael smiles slightly, Sonny smiles more. 

“I was a little tipsy, and he was telling me and my friends how easy it was. He asked me if I wanted anything and I thought ‘what could go wrong?’ Needless to say, a lot could have gone wrong, but nothing did.” 

There’s a chorous of shocked exclamation that Vinny’s voice breaks through.

“That’s so sick! How long did you have it for?” 

Rafael smirks. “That’s the funny bit: I still have it.” 

“What?! No way! You’re lying.” Joey interjects.

“I’m not. I swear, I left a piercing out of it for years but it’s never closed. Eventually I figured I’d embrace it. So now, when I think to, I put a piece of jewelry in it.” 

“Damn, that’s some crazy shit. Wha’d’you think about that, Sonny?” Vinny asks, and gives him a wink.

Before he can answer, Gina backhands Vinny on the back of his head, making him exclaim. 

“Oh my fucking- Gina, what the hell was that for?” 

“The fuck did I tell you guys before you came over, huh? Don’t ask any stupid goddamn questions like that.” 

“Jesus Christ on crack, you’re wearing a ring, Gee. That hurt.” 

“Well, don’t say dumb shit and you won’t get hit.” 

“Fuck, I’m bleeding.” 

“No you’re not.” Gina presses her palm over the skin she just hit, then puts it in front of his face, “See? No blood, now quit being a drama queen.” 

“Gina, seriously, I think I’m bleeding.” 

“Well if you are, you’ll live. But not if you keep saying dumb shit like that.” 

“Jesus fucking- fine.” Vinny looks at Sonny, who’s wearing a glare. 

“Well? You wanna apologize or you need to hear me yell too?” 

“A’right, a’right, I’m sorry I asked about your sex life.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought, be sorry and shit.” Sonny mutters and tightens an extra protective arm around Rafael’s shoulders a moment before the doorbell rings. “Who’s that?”

“Hopefully the angel of death.” Gina says, then stumbles on her own exiting steps when she turns back to look at Rafael. “Oh- Oh my- I didn’t-“

“Wow Gee, went from help to hindrance in less than thirty seconds. That’s some good stuff right there. Still, let me check.” Sonny gets off the couch and Rafael’s heart squeezes in his chest. Sonny gives him a gentle pat on the shoulder before heading to check the door. The breath Rafael is holding isn’t released until he hears some laughter. Another moment later and Sonny comes in with his arm around Munch.

“Guys, this is Sergeant Munch. Munch, this is…well, I’d tell you but you’re not gonna remember.”

“No, but it is Christmas. If you want I can pretend to try and remember. .”

There’s a wave of laughs and of greeting, John getting a warm welcome.

“Hey, I know you” Margret speaks up after a moment of less than discrete staring.

 “Yes, yes the body guard who’s not very good at being a body guard, how could you forget me? Again, sorry about that counselor.”

“Eh. How could you have known?” Rafael offers. Munch scoffs.

“Yes, right, possibly the biggest convictions in this country’s history and I couldn’t have known someone would take their shot?”

“Still, you did pretty well last time.”

“Last time was much easier. I wasn’t contesting with gun nuts, thanks.” John says and takes the wine Sonny hands him. “It was just a gang then.”

“Either way, I don’t hold you accountable.”

“A’right, a’right enough of this.” Sonny says and takes his seat between Rafael and where John’s perched on the arm of the sofa. “So, Munch, what’d you do today anyway?”

Munch goes on to talk about his Christmas spent trudging around, going from Fin (who was with Ken and Alejandro and little James) to Olivia’s place, where Rollins was as well, and then to see Elliot and his family, where he was still affectionately referred to as “Uncle Munchy.”

Munch gets more questions than Rafael, surprisingly enough. And thankfully, since look how well his being questioned seems to work out.  

****

Dinner is an affair. Even with the extra seats added to the table, a good chunk of the kids are diverted to sitting in the living room, but only after they’ve said a special, five minute long Christmas grace for their dinner. But Rafael’s given a seat at the table, in the heart of plate passing and thickly accented chatter.

“I’m having flashbacks to my marriages with Italian women.” John mutters in Rafael’s ear as bread is passed their way. Which they’re going to need to mop up the rivers of red sauce adorning their plates. Rafael resists a laugh when Sonny pours even more sauce onto his whole meal.  

“What?” Sonny asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing. I just didn’t know you wanted to drown your food before you eat it.”

“Oh yea, cuz my sauciness is such a friggin’ shock to you.” He taunts, and pecks Rafael’s temple before picking up his fork.

Rafael catches the _look_ that Uncle Steven gives them, and raises an eyebrow. The man’s caught.

“So… I’m sorry, what should I be callin’ you?”

“Well, my name is Rafael.”

“So…Rafael…?”

“No, call him Alfonzo.” Sonny answers while his fork stabs over and over again into his food, clinking against the dish beneath. 

“Ay, what’re you gettin’ all bent about? I don’t wanna sound like a dumbass.”

“Too late.” Shiela puts in while sliding her knife through the undifferentiated masses of red and yellow and brown on her plate.

“Ah, shut up.”

“Wha? Call the man by his friggin’ name. What, you nervous or something? You think he’s gonna put you on trial?”

“Should you be?” Rafael smirks a little, and everyone paying attention gets a laugh while Steven’s eyes bug.

“No! God almighty, no.”

Again, more laughs.

“Don’t worry. So long as you’re not a sleaze or a pervert you should be fine.” Rafael says.

“Oh no, Steven, you’re in trouble.” Shiela taunts.

“Shiela! Goddamn, that’s not funny!”

“Aw don’t be such a spoil sport, hon. It’s pretty damn funny. You’d fold in, like, a minute tops.”

“Be that as it may, I certainly hope you wouldn’t try to defend your past statements by saying that you can’t remember what you meant because you ‘say so many words in a day.’” Rafael puts in

More laughs. Rafael’s own laugh is tempered, but the words come back clear as day. He’s back in that courtroom, under the pressure of cameras and his co-councils and the defense council. How had he handled it then?

He didn’t. That’s how. It’s why he pushed Sonny, literally and physically. It’s why he was sick to his stomach on a daily basis and was already down ten pounds before-

“Rafe?”

“Sorry, what?” Rafael asks, setting down the fork that had hovered above his plate a moment too long.

“Did you want to tell everyone about our plans for New Year’s Eve?” Sonny asks, apparently repeating his question. Rafael has to think a moment, before he understands again where and when he is and what his plans for his almost-ended future include.

“Right, yes.” He clears his throat. “This New Year’s Eve we’re going to be in Washington D.C. having dinner with the president.”

There’s more shocked gasps, and some exclamations of “no way!” and “what the fuck?!”

“Just you two or-“ Valerie asks with an excess of pride.

“No, no not just us. No, the two of us, plus the squad, and my co-councils.”

“Still, that’s sick!” Vinny puts in.

_No…actually….that’s not what sick means._

“It’s going to be awesome.” Sonny agrees, beaming. “I can’t believe it! I’m going to meet the president.”

“Well, hang on now, didn’t you technically meet a president already?” Teresa asks. Sonny rolls his eyes.

“First of all, that experience was severely dampened by my having to fucking handcuff the guy. And second of all, if you believe like I, the Supreme Court, and Congress do -when was the last fucking time the three of us agreed on anything- Donald Trump isn’t a president. Which is why my new favorite word in the English language is ‘expungement’.”

“Ah yes, expungement. What a lovely word.” Rafael agrees.

Sonny dissolves into his law-nerd self, talking about Hillary Clinton and Tim Kaine in terms of legal precedents, which only gets him two minutes of uninterrupted speaking before the conversation switches to something Rafael isn’t obligated to talk about.

Rafael’s proud of himself when he realizes he’s finished an entire overfilled plate, He’s allowed to move back to the living room with Bella and Teresa after an hour or so of talking and eating and a few startling bursts of laughter. Sonny stays at the table to finish his second helping, and then assist in cleaning up.

“So how’re you doing?” Bella asks once they’ve found a place to sit.

“Uh…” Rafael thinks, while realizing it’s the first direct question he’s been asked in an hour. “You know. It’s my first Carisi Christmas. It’s been overwhelming, but I’m gladly surprised by not being interrogated as much as I thought I would be.”

“Seriously? Everyone’s nervous about talking to you.”

“You’re joking.”

“Oh come on. Between how you were at trial and how they know Sonny will get if they say something stupid to you…I just figured as much.” She moves a little closer. “But seriously, how’ve _you_ been? Since…y’know…everything.” ”

Rafael pauses and gives her a look. “Sonny didn’t tell you?”

“No. Every time I asked how you were he just said he was taking care of you and that it wasn’t my business to ask about that kind of thing.”

“Huh.” Rafael looks at the table where his glass had been before, a space that’s empty now, then back at Bella. Her face is soft around the eyes and mouth like her brother’s, showing just how concerned she is. “Well, I guess I can tell you. But it’s not exactly a point of pride for me. I…well, after I got shot I went through a very dark period. I was very depressed. Extremely depressed.”

_What fucking ‘was’?_

“Oh my god.” Bella breathes and rests a hand on his. “I’m so sorry. I mean, to go through what you had to and then have that…god…”

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not on you.”

“No, I know, but…still…” She rests a hand on his arm and squeezes “You didn’t deserve that.”

He smiles slightly. “Thanks Bella.”

“But you’re better now, right? You’re back to normal? Or getting there anyway?”

“Yes, I’m doing better. Thanks, Bella. For bothering to ask. I still haven’t gone back to normal but I’m getting there. My clothes still don’t fit like they used to, but I could have bigger problems.”

“Your clothes? What happened to your clothes?”

“The…the medication they had me on, you know, so I could breathe and not be in pain, they sapped my appetite. I wasn’t eating. I lost forty…maybe fifty pounds.”

“Oh Jesus” she wraps him up in a hug. He holds his breath to keep from groaning at the way she presses against his scarred half. When she lets go she pats his face. “Well…with Sonny around, that must not be too hard.” She chuckles at her own joke, and Rafael joins in.

“Today helped too. I’m sure I gained back a few today.”

“I know I did. Hey, do you want a drink? I’ll get you a drink.” She says and squeezes his shoulder before going into the kitchen where Sonny’s helping Valerie and Shiela with dishes.

“Bella, honey, since when do you drink scotch?” Shiela asks, lowering the faucet flow so she can be heard.

“Never. This is for Rafael. But while we’re at it-“ Bella opens a bottle of wine and pours herself some.

“Ah, what’you need a drink for? Your husband’s got a lid on your kid, keepin’ her occupied. I never had a Christmas that easy, Bella.”

“I’m just havin a drink, Aunt Shiela. That’s all.” She takes a glug from her glass, then leaves the room to dodge the look her brother is giving her.

“Is she alright? Since when is she a two fisted drinker?”

“She’s not, that’s probably Raf’s.” Sonny says, taking the dish she hands him to dry.

“Really? Your man’s a scotch drinker?”

“Almost exclusively.” Sonny answers. He’s glad for the distraction of drying dishes. It keeps him from agonizing over why Rafael would ask for another drink. Even though he is an adult, he’s allowed to ask for a drink, it’s not like he’s taking the heavy medication anymore. He doesn’t need to ask permission for a drink.

“Hey Sonny?” Gina bumps her brother’s shoulder once he’s alone in the kitchen, drying what’s left of the dishes. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

“Yeah, sure” he agrees, wiping his hands. His head raises after a beat of silence andhe  sees the look on her face. Sonny takes the cue and follows her into the family room, where all the coats are piled up, and shuts the door. “Everything alright. Gee?”

“Yeah” she agrees, her eyes down. Sonny’s eyes go to her hand as she reaches down to her pocket, and pulls out her phone.

“You sure?”

“No, yeah it’s okay, really. I just…” she sighs. “I…I, uh…met someone.”

He blinks a couple times. “Uh…okay. Cool.”

“Yeah.” She looks down at her phone and taps the screen a few times, then hands him her phone. Beside his sister is a girl with red hair, green eyes, a smattering of freckles, and wide smile. Sonny takes her phone and looks at the two of them, their arms around each other. They’re on a boat somewhere, their hair wind tossed and half covering their faces. Sonny feels a ping of relief when he’s  reminded that Carl Rudnick is in prison.

“Wow. You two look happy.”

“Yeah” a flush spreads over her cheeks “she’s…she’s special, Sonny.”

“Aw Jesus, please don’t tell me you’re engaged already.”

She laughs takes her phone back before shoving him in the shoulder. “No! Jesus Sonny, not yet. We’re takin’ things slow, you know? It’s been…wow…it’s actually been great.”

Sonny chuckles. “I still hate that word, but that’s real nice Gee. Wait, but if you’re not gettin’ serious then why’re you tellin’ me now?”

“’Cuz” She huffs. “Y’know we got together right before Gino died. And…like…I thought that was just gonna put the kibosh on that, but then she calls me, like, three days later. And she asks me if I want anything, if I need anything…she was so nice, Sonny. And so supportive. And we’d only been dating for two weeks, but still she helped me. Y’know…Jesus Mary and Joseph, I know I’ve said it before, but I think…this time…”

Sonny’s face pulls up into a smile. “Is my middle sister in love? Real true love?”

“I think so, Sonny. I really think it’s gonna stick this time.”

“Aw Gee” Sonny wraps his younger sister up in a tight hug, almost lifting her off the ground. “I’m so happy for you, really I am.”

“Thanks, Sonny” she muffles against his shoulder. There’s a regretful look on her face when she pulls away. “I’m sorry that…y’know…when you and Raf-“

“Gee, don’t worry about-“

“No no, I do worry about it though. I, uh, I know I wasn’t good to you through the trial and you and Raf and…y’know… I should’ve understood.”

“Look, Gee, it’s okay. I get it. Can we forget it? Please?”

She smiles and pats her brother’s cheek. “A’right, we can do that.”

He pecks her cheek and gives her one last big hug. “Don’t worry. If you need it, I’ll be there for you when you tell mom and dad.”

“Good. I’m gonna need the protection.”

They both laugh, even though they know it’s true.

****

The next time Rafael gets to experience some quiet is in the car, on their way home. He and Sonny sit in the back seat while Munch drives, his eyes fixed on the road, hands on the wheel. The car is darkened, the most noise coming from the ambient driving sounds outside their window.

His gaze drifts over to Sonny. The light that shines into the car is there one moment and gone the next, revealing his body slumped in exhaustion. If he’s not asleep, he’s on his way to it. Rafael then looks to the small stack of presents between them on the seat. He still feels a little shock when he remembers how many of those were given to himself, how he was given almost as many presents as Sonny. Like he’s actually a part of their family.

Like they want him to be a part of their family.

_Would they have wanted me before…? Before all this…?_

Rafael’s eyes drift shut as he tries to think about the day he just had. He’s looking for something to be thankful for.

Waking up to Sonny and a home cooked breakfast was nice. So was their own gift exchange of books and stationary and clothing. Talking to his mother, hearing how calm and relaxed she had sounded, that was good.  And seeing Sonny with his family was sweet, though he can’t conjure up the image. He knows it happened, but actually seeing it…

The car comes to a stop. “Counselor, Carisi” Munch says, just loud enough to break the ambient silence. Rafael has a hard time prying his eyes open, and when he does he sees Carisi rubbing his knuckles into his eye sockets.

It takes a few minutes for them to find their bodies, and another few for them to collect their belongings. Sonny gives Munch a quiet goodbye and a pat on the shoulder. Rafael does the same.

“You too, Counselor. And Merry Christmas from your favorite Jew.”

“Who says you’re my favorite Jew?”

Munch chuckles and shakes his head. “Like I said, Merry Christmas.”

Rafael steps carefully onto the sidewalk, avoiding any slippery patches. The cold air sends a sharp pain through his lung and wakes him more fully as they watch John drive off.

Sonny leads him up to their apartment, one arm around him and the other carrying their gift bags. Rafael unlocks the door and Sonny squeezes his shoulder, then moves his hand down to pick up his gun-

_Wait, where did that come from? He’s been carrying all night?_

He goes into their apartment, then nods for Rafael to come in. He locks the door behind himself.

Everything is dropped on the sofa to be dealt with later, the two of them just needing to sleep. They both move into the bedroom- Sonny going first, what’s new- and strip, leaving their clothes in a pile on the bottom of the closet. Rafael’s exhaustion is creeping up again, begging for him to fall into bed. He does, after he puts on some pajamas and they both brush their teeth. Sonny climbs in a moment later and flicks off the light.

“How’re you feeling?” His voice is low, barely breaking the quiet of their darkened room. Rafael thinks for a long moment. Sonny presses up against his back, arms around his waist, the heat of his body passing through Rafael's garments. “Numb, right? Almost like you weren’t there today?”

“Right.” Rafael murmurs, resting his hands over Sonny’s.

“It’s okay.” Sonny pecks his neck gently. “Me too.”

Rafael’s eyes open, but he’s too tired to turn his head. “Really? You seemed so happy.”

“Yeah…I was tryin’ to…y’know, make it memorable. But it was a lot. My brain kinda blocked it out. Guess that’s one of those PTSD things, right?”

Rafael closes his eyes to keep from tearing up. It doesn’t stop his heart from breaking.

“I guess so.” He answers and squeezes his hand tight. “Te amo, mi héroe. Te amo mucho.”

He feels an extra puff of breath against his neck, like a shadow of a laugh. “I love you too, Rafe. So much.” Sonny presses a few more kisses to the side of his face. The warmth those kisses leave in their wake lulls him off to a blessedly undisturbed sleep.

A Christmas miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *trumpet fanfare* I give to you the new chapter of Search! 
> 
> I hope this was worth the wait! I put a lot of effort into trying to show Rafael's state of mind by focusing in on his character in this chapter. I hope it came through. Let me know if it did by leaving a comment!
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient with me. I've said this before, but I really wish I had finished this story when I still had all my time to myself. Either way, enjoy!


	16. Making Changes

Rafael feels wrong wiping his sweating palms on his finely tailored suit, but he sure as hell isn’t wiping them on anything in the room. He’s not going to leave his bodily fluids behind in the goddamn White House. Not a chance. Especially not with the cameras watching

“Palms sweaty?” Rita murmurs from where she’s stood next to him. He sighs and nods. “Knees weak? Arms heavy?”

“A little,” Rafael agrees, wondering just how transparent his nerves are.

“What’re you going to ask next, Rita?” Ken chips in. “If he’s got vomit on his sweater already? And if it’s going to be his mom’s spaghetti?”

Rafael rolls his eyes when the cultural reference clicks. Rita chuckles. “What’s so wrong with that?”

“You’re quoting a guy that threatened to rip the president’s vocal chords out in the White House. That’s not in poor taste to you?”

“Actually, it was her tonsils. And it wasn’t because she was president.”

“Rita, I thought you weren’t a defense attorney anymore.”

“Hey, calm down you two.” Rafael interrupts. “I don’t want you bickering when we meet her.”

“Seriously guys, no bickering.” Sonny, who’s stood on Rafael’s other side, adds though he’s trying to keep his face neutral. “Don’t fuck this up for me.”

“For you?” Ken asks, raising an eyebrow. Sonny gives him a ‘look’.

“Seriously? I’m a friggin’ law nerd who gets to meet Hillary Rodham Clinton. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Yeah, come on Ken” Rita says “don’t embarrass the law nerd.”

Their little murmurs of conversation get cut off when the door cracks open, just enough for two secret service agents to slip in and survey the room from behind their black sunglasses. Everyone’s blood pressure goes up. A moment later, Hillary Clinton walks through the door. Tim Kaine follows in on her heels, both of them wearing similar shades of blue suits. Their introduction is peppered with camera flashes.

There’s a flash in Rafael’s mind of the color of those suits, adorning Sonny’s tall, lank frame. That same color that looks rather ugly when it absorbs blood. Still, he raises a hand to salute the two smiling politicians. There’s a surreal wash that comes over Rafael because he still can’t believe that the woman he voted for is president after a nearly year-long nightmare. And it’s because of him.

For a second, he wonders if he really died that day. Or maybe he’s in a coma and he’s dreaming right now. That would explain why nothing quite feels real.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you all, to spend my New Year’s Eve with such an esteemed group.” Rafael registers her words and forces himself to pay attention. Is it possible that he’s actually watching the most powerful woman in the world shake his colleagues’ hands? Greeting them by name?

 “It’s an honor to meet you, Madam President.” Rafael says when it’s his turn.

“ADA Rafael Barba, it’s so good to see you.” She says, and takes his hand into her own. She sounds like she’s greeting a long-lost friend, and his anxiety spikes once again. _This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. This is a hallucination, it must be._

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Vice President.”

“Don’t worry Mr. Barba, I promise I’m not as awful as the last Vice President you met.”

Rafael actually laughs at such honest candor. He hears him make fun of Mike Pence when he gets to Ken, saying “I’m sure it’s nice meeting a Vice President you don’t have to question.”

“That depends, are you sure I don’t have to question you?” Ken asks, but they both laugh.

“Thank you all so much for being here.” Clinton says. “To meet a group of such upstanding American citizens…if you don’t mind my saying so, it’s people like you who’ve always made America great. That never went away.”

Rafael sees in his peripheral vision the way Sonny’s face stretches into a broad smile, which contrasts sharply against his formal uniform.

“Without further ado, let’s head to the State Dining room.” She continues. They follow in a straight line out of the Oval Office, down a hall, leaving the masses of cameras behind. As they reach a door, Clinton stops and turns to the group. “I hope you don’t mind, I invited a few more people to join us this evening.”

There’s little time for that statement to sink in before the door opens for them to enter. The shock passes over each of them as they enter and take in the two other men stood in the presidential dining room. People that have been on the peripheries of their attention since January of 2017.

“Well hello all, such a pleasure to meet you. Don’t look so scared, please, we don’t bite.” Obama says as he takes them in, and Biden laughs at his voice.

Rafael can practically feel the way Sonny’s head is about to explode.

****

It’s almost three in the morning when Sonny and Rafael come back to their hotel room. Rafael’s head throbs from the amount of smiling he’s been doing. Sonny shuts their door before putting on the deadbolt and then chain, then turns to his husband. His own face is still pulled into a smile.

“Wow…”

“I know” Rafael says, and comes over to him, pulling him into a hug, trying hard to ground himself. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, Sonny’s natural scent mixed with his cologne. Sonny’s cheek rests on top of his head, and Rafael can feel his breath warming his scalp

“You okay?” Sonny asks after a few moments.

“Just thinking.” Rafael murmurs.

“Is that a no?” Sonny asks. Rafael pulls back and looks up at his husband, taking in those bright blue eyes, that open face, that distinct face, that prominent chin that would normally be speckled with stubble by now if he hadn’t shaved at nine the evening before.

“I’m not sure. I’m trying to figure out if tonight really happened.”

Sonny’s brows push together, and he purses his lips. “What do you mean?”

He sighs. “Don’t think I’m crazy. It just…how often does that happen? Getting to meet and actually talk to two presidents? And their vice presidents? Since when does that ever happen?”

“Rafe, c’mon. What, you think you dreamed the whole thing?”

He shrugs. “Or I hallucinated it. Or this is the drug induced fantasy of my comatose self.”

“Hey, stop it.” Sonny leans down and kisses him. “This was real. This has all been real. You’re not in a coma.”

“Which is exactly something my brain would say to keep me from panicking about being in a coma.”

“Babe, seriously. Would I have been as embarrassing in your dreams as I was today?”

“Oh stop, you weren’t embarrassing.”

“Are you kidding? I geeked out about four heads of state, right in front of them.”

Rafael gives him a look. “Sonny, come on. Did you miss the part where they were intrigued by what you had to say? Or their complimenting you?”

“Please, they felt bad that I embarrassed myself.”

Rafael rolls his eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. That’s why Tim Kaine said his favorite part of the trial was when you asked if it was married people or queer people who couldn’t do their job.”

Sonny’s smile brightens again. “Okay, that was a nice ego boost.” He sighs, but it’s a happy sound. “It’s nice not having a vice president that makes your skin crawl.”

“And a president that doesn’t make your skin crawl.”

“Oh well duh.” Sonny says, and starts undressing, pulling off the clothes that Rafael had buttoned him into earlier that evening. “God, it was so nice spending an evening listening to an actual president talk.”

Rafael sits on the bed and listens while sheading his suit jacket. “It was. And it was even nicer to not have her monopolize the conversation.”

“Right, exactly. Like, actually getting to _talk_ , to have _conversations_ with these people…holy shit, that was…I can’t. I’m still in awe that it actually happened. Hopefully a shower will let me relax enough to let it sink in.” Sonny leans down and pecks Rafael’s cheek, then goes into the bathroom wearing only his underwear. The silence that surrounds Rafael…it feels wrong. After an entire night of laughter and conversation, the stillness of quiet is unsettling. He stops in the middle of undressing himself and just sits there.

And still, Rafael wonders how this night was possible. He sits on the bed, next to Sonny’s formal uniform and carefully thumbs the black material. Rafael can remember how the cloth had perfectly hidden most of Sonny’s curves and divots, making him a plain of angles instead of slopes. He remembers the way his chest seemed not to move as he breathed, even though he talked plenty.

Maybe that’s the surreal part. That Rafael got to watch people who are unquestionably important listen to Sonny and react so favorably to him. Seeing him charm people with stories and anecdotes and ideas about this or that regarding law. And having those same important people compliment their marriage.

 _A real match, you two seem to be_ Rafael remembers his previous president saying to them. That is one of the only concrete parts of the evening that Rafael can think of. He’s not a fan of this way his new self tends to remember events in much more vague, amorphous way, with far less specifics than his old mind did. Did the drugs they used on him fuck up his brain? Is he still depressed? Or is this just what happens when you get older?

There’s a knock on the hotel room, shaking Rafael of his deep, meandering thoughts. Rafael gets up and checks the peephole. He smiles, slightly, when he sees that Rita is on the other side of the door, and opens it.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I’m too wired to sleep. You mind?”

“No, not at all.” He steps aside. She comes in but doesn’t take a seat, because she really is too wound up to think about resting. Rafael turns the lock, then goes and knocks on the bathroom door.

“Yeah.” Sonny yells over the shower.

“Rita’s here. Don’t come out naked.”

“Okay.” He replies, and Rita chuckles.

“That’s such a big concern?”

“He’s going to sleep soon, and he doesn’t wear clothes in bed.”

She blinks a few times. “Okay. Wow. More than I ever needed to know about your husband.”

“Well now you know.” He unbuttons his other sleeve, since the first one is already hanging open. “You mind?”

“I’m not a prude. Go ahead.”

“Good.” He unbuttons his shirt and tosses it onto the bed, next to Sonny’s dress blues, though they look considerably less impressive just lying there. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Actually there is.” She relents. As awake as she is, she’s also lost her patience for conversational foreplay. He doesn’t ask what as he keeps undressing, pulling off his undershirt before sliding on a t-shirt, very different from the image she always had of him wearing satin pajamas to bed.

“I got a call today. From the Coalition to Stop Gun Violence.”

That makes Rafael stop with his belt halfway undone. He gives her a look. “They called you?”

She nods, and it seems like his play button is pushed because he goes back to undoing his pants, which pool around his ankles. Thankfully, his shirt is long enough that it covers his crotch.

“What did they want to know?” He steps into a pair of sweat pants.

“My shoe size. What do you think?”

He rolls his eyes and sits on the bed. “They want you to work for them?”

“Yes, they do.” She says, watching him pull on a maroon sweatshirt. She’s surprised when the letters across the chest spell out ‘Fordham’ and not ‘Harvard.’

“So what are you telling me, Rita?”

“I’m _telling_ you that I was asked to work for a good cause.” She finally sits, next to Rafael on the bed. “I’m _asking_ what you would do.”

He nods, and looks down at his hands, which are mostly covered by his sleeves. “If it was me?” He asks, his green eyes meeting her brown ones.

“Exactly.”

His sarcasm melts away, and he looks at the wall across from them, which sports a lovely painting of the White House Rose Garden. “My life is in New York. My family is in New York. Sonny’s job is in New York. If it were me, I couldn’t make that kind of change.”

“It’s not that long a commute. There are trains, there are flights.”

He sighs slightly. “I suppose. And, really, it’s a good opportunity. It would be foolish to blatantly say no. And a place in such a prominent lobby could mean political mobility.”

“You know I don’t care about politics.”

“No, you don’t, but you could be good at it. You’re persuasive when you want to be.”

“Oh please, I’m persuasive when I have leverage.”

“You persuaded me into forgiving you, that didn’t take leverage.”

She nudges him with her shoulder, and he smiles.

“Fine, fine. I suppose you’re right. Still, you said it yourself that it’s a good cause. And you have a lot to offer. Would you be working as a lawyer or as a spokesperson?”

“They made it sound like a bit of both. Working in New York to influence gun legislation while quite possibly doing speaking events. Though, I’m not sure I could handle that kind of…exposure, again.”

“I know what you mean.” He rests a hand over hers. After a moment, she leans down so her head is on his shoulder. He doesn’t dare move, and risk making her shy away again.

“Are we being used as political show ponies?”

“Probably. But that doesn’t negate us doing the right thing. I’d rather be a used as a liberal ideal than sit by in silence.”

She nods. But she lets him ruminate, wondering if he’ll say anything else. Instead, the noise that answers them is the bathroom door opening, followed by the click of the light switch. Carisi comes out, a towel wrapped around his waist. A few beads of water are stuck to his skin, and his hair is dark from the water, so much so that she can’t pick out his grey.

“Hi Rita.” He offers, and flashes her a smile. She’s still a little shocked by how uniformly white his skin is.

“Hello Detective. A little informal, aren’t we?”

“Just a little. I’d hug ya, but I’m still kinda wet. Anyway.” He says, and pulls off his towel. Both of them exclaim and cover their eyes.

“Sonny!” Rafael yells.

“What’re you not tryin’ to see, huh?” The younger man laughs. “Besides, if you stopped that you’d see that I’m wearing underwear.”

Slowly, they both uncover their eyes to see he’s wearing a pair of light grey boxer briefs.

“Oh. Good.”

“Hell, I’m not an animal Rafe, I’m not going to flash Rita. Sheesh.” He pats his hair with the towel, and rubs it over his skin too. Rita’s eye is drawn now to the only interruption to his white skin: the perfect circle, flanked on either side by two straight lines, in the middle of his thigh. Rafael follows her eye as Sonny walks away, then meets her gaze.

She doesn’t ask. She remembers.

“So, weird day, huh?” Sonny asks as he pulls on his sweatpants.

“Sure was. It’s odd, seeing your own name in a CNN notification.”

“Really?” He laughs, while his eyes dart around, distracted. “I haven’t even looked at my phone. It’s all like a big dream.”

“It truly is.” She agrees. Sonny’s gaze finally rests on Rafael, and a smile pulls at his lips before he goes rummaging into his bag.

“Can you believe Obama was there too? Who would’ve thought?”

“I was shocked Tim Kaine was even there.”

“I always liked that guy.” He stands up with an NYPD sweatshirt draped over his shoulders, though it’s left open. “He’s something else. I feel comfortable having him as president if something happens to Hillary.”

“Lets hope nothing does.”

“I doubt it will. I’m sure the Secret Service is on super high alert.” He laughs. “And they thought they were going to get a break after Obama left office.”

“Do they ever get a break?”

“I guess not.”

“They wish.”

“I’m sure. Hey, did Curt come with you for this?”

“Oh, no.” Her shoulders slump a bit. “He was working today. And besides, he didn’t want to draw any attention to himself or to us.”

“Oh, you mean like after the trial?” Sonny laughs and shakes his head, his face filled with mirth. “God, I can’t- fucking, when they’re showing the pictures of you guys-“

“Wait, what?” Rafael puts a hand up.

“What, I didn’t tell you this Rafe? Oh Jesus, a’right. I guess I’ll tell ya now.” He sits in the chair across from the two of them. “So, like, a few days after the trial someone put together an article that featured pictures of the three of you guys and your significant other’s. Which people freaked the _fuck_ out over. I mean, people were losing their shit.” He fake gasps. “Dear god, two of them are gay! And one of them has jungle fever!”

“Excuse me?” Rita cuts in.

“Hey, don’t be mad at me. I didn’t say it, they were the ones that said it. But yeah, people were like all shocked in shit. Like this was some secret motivation behind why you guys had taken on this case.”

“Wait for it, people are going to act that exact same way tomorrow.” Rita says, then sighs. “Can’t wait to read those headlines.”

“Then don’t read ‘em. Easy enough.” Sonny says.

“Says the person who doesn’t care about anybody’s opinions.”

“Excuse me? But since when the hell does Rita ‘I will tear you to shreds on the stand and enjoy it’ Calhoun give a fuck about what people think of her?”

“If I’m going into politics, it’s worth thinking about.”

“Politics? What?”

Rita goes on to explain to Sonny what she’d just told Rafael, which gets her a congratulation and a hug. And Rafael smiles as he watches that, but he feels removed from the situation. Disconnected. Again.

Again, he wonders if he’s really here, sitting in a hotel room in D.C. with his husband and the woman who at one time was his best friend, after having dinner with a pair of presidents and vice presidents. This can’t possibly be real.

But if it’s not, then what is? When did life stop being real?

Was it when he got shot? Is he in a coma?

Was it when he was almost killed in his own home? Did he actually have even more trauma happen to him, and all of this is a hallucination?

Was it when the last election happened? Did Rafael have a heart attack at the results and this whole fantasy is his vendetta against that?

Rafael’s stomach turns. If any of those are true…well, the last one breaks his heart the most. He doesn’t like that thought.

To imagine he died without ever marrying Sonny breaks his heart.

****

The grey city skies seem to have swallowed up all the light when Rafael and Sonny step out of the train station. It doesn’t matter that it’s noon. It could be six in the morning or six in the evening for how dark it is. The frigid air promises snow and a later return to school for the city’s kids. But it’s hot and stuffy in the cab that takes them home. It’s almost a relief to finally be in the still, if slightly chilly, air of their home.

Sonny only slips off his shoes before making a bee line to the thermostat and turning it on, while Rafael peels himself out of his coat. His nose is frozen and his eyes are watering. He stands there for a few minutes, letting the sensation come back into his limbs before going about unpacking.

The quiet of their home is only broken by the sound of wheels and zippers. Rafael peers down at the suit he’d worn the night before. It seems new. Different. Like somehow the experience had fundamentally changed the stitching and weaving of the cloth. The color seems lighter, the power of the evening before having leeched out some of its essence.

“You okay?” Sonny’s voice interrupts Rafael, making his eyes lift from the jacket in his hands. Rafael blinks a few times, and swallows the saliva that’s pooled in his mouth.

“Yeah…just…”

“Thinking?” Sonny’s voice softens as he comes closer. Rafael nods slightly and meets his eye. “About if you can ever wash that suit again?”

The skin around Sonny’s eyes crinkles when he gives a slight smile. Rafael shrugs, his own face pulling up. “Sure. Why not?”

****

Even after leaving his therapy sessions, Rafael’s numb. His emotions are hiding behind something strong and durable, something that doesn’t want to be broken. He tries to knock it down in the walls of Dr. Lindstrom’s office, but the words that come out of his mouth feel fake, like they’re coming from somewhere else. He can’t even think to absorb what the good doctor suggests to him. He leaves the doctor’s office and slogs home, to his still empty apartment. Rafael locks the door and texts Sonny that he’s home, then loses himself in some work. A case against a pimp who’d beaten a prostitute to death. Even the pictures of her mutilated body don’t strike him like they once did.

Sonny comes home, giving Rafael an excuse to notice the time and get up off the sofa. They say how they’ve missed each other and how they love each other, and Sonny gives Rafael a soft kiss before trading his suit jacket for an apron. The aroma of garlic, onion, and tomato fill the apartment like they so often do. Something clicks for Rafael, and he has a moment where he remembers feelings. Full, vivid feelings. Times when dinner was cooked and served in the middle of tough cases or after happy occurrences. He can’t remember any of those cases or those occurrences, but for a few moments he remembers the feeling.

“So how was your day?” They’re the first real words Rafael says to Sonny as they sit down to eat. Sonny’s already chewing a mouthful of lasagna, so it takes him a minute to answer.

“Alright I guess. We’re working that case still, the one with the babies being used to smuggle drugs. Nas is pretty…like, he’s good with rape victims and all, but he’s kinda torn up about kids being used in all this.”

“Can you blame him?”

“No, no, o’course not. It gets me too. But he’s lookin’ at me asking how the hell he’s supposed to get used to this. I told him, look, Liv still isn’t even used to this. Don’t expect to get used to anything in this job.”

“Think he’ll stick it out?”

“I sure hope so. He’s a good detective, even if he gets sideways looks from some people.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“More than it should.”

“Well.” Rafael says. Sonny sighs.

“Yeah, I know.”

They sit in silence for a while more, eating instead of talking, until Sonny’s down to sopping up sauce with his bread.

“So? How was your day?”

Rafael shrugs. “Alright, I guess. Same stuff, different day.”

“Yeah? How’s the Chavez case going?”

“It’s…going. I worked on that, and a few other things before I went to therapy.”

There’s a pause. Why is there a pause? Why do they give each other a questioning look?

“Uh…can I ask? How that went?” Sonny ventures. Rafael nods.

“You can ask, if you want to hear about it. If you want to hear me rehash everything I told Dr. Lindstrom.”

"I mean…you know, you can talk about your sessions with me. Don't be fooled by the big mouth and the small ears, I can be a pretty good listener."

Rafael chuckles and looks down at his plate, thinking for a long moment as the joking mood ebbs. 

"I...it's so weird for me here. I feel like I'm walking between two different worlds. Between old and new. And something about new me doesn't agree with old me. Like I can't just go back the way I did every other time."

"Go back? Go back to what?" Sonny asks after swallowing a bite of bread. Rafael doesn't roll his eyes like he would've so long ago. 

Rafael has to be quiet for a moment, his brain working out the phrasing. 

"I think I need something to change. I need to let go of something."

"W-W-Woah, like what? The job?"

Rafael's quiet. 

"This place? This apartment?"

Still Rafael ponders the question. Sonny sits up straight. 

"Oh god" he drops his fork "oh god, oh god, don't say it's me. You're not letting go of me, right?"

"Sonny-"

"Just tell me, now, please."

"God Sonny, I'm not leaving you. The one thing I've been able to rely on in all this is you. I'm not leaving you."

"You're sure?"

"You really need to ask?" Rafael doesn't like the way Sonny's face pulls down at that. He reaches over and takes one of sonny's hands into his own. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Sonny smiles, even though it's not. That smile that’s for other people, not for himself. "It's what I signed on for."

"Well lucky you, you signed on for me right before everything hit the fan"

"Hey, stop. I knew what I was getting into" Sonny gets up and comes around to Rafael, hugging him firmly from behind and scattering kisses all over Rafael's neck. It's enough to make Rafael chuckle before they clear the table.

“But, really, you understand what I mean, right?” Rafael asks once they’re settled down in the living room. Sonny looks up from his laptop and blinks.

“About what?”

“About needing a change. Now. Because this time was different from all the other times. From all the other times someone tried to end one of us. We're not the same people. Come on, we've met two presidents. Three if you include expunged one. How can we go back to that?"

Sonny nods slightly, his lips pursed as he looks down at their coffee table. “You know…I get what you mean. Like, every time I come in here, I think of screaming at Rita and Ken. I walk through our bedroom and I think about waking up to that freaking call that started it all. Being here…it’s kinda like it’s holding us back.”

“It’s not the only thing holding us back.”

“No, no you’re right, it’s not. But what does that mean then? I mean, what’re we supposed to do?”

Rafael thinks on that, his eyes looking over their table before landing on his legal pad.

****

The week passes by, and soon enough Rafael is back in the doctor’s office. And once again, Rafael tries to vocalize his thoughts (or lack there of) when prompted.

“So tell me, have you given any more thought to your father?” The doctor asks, the fourth or fifth of those prompts.

Rafael pushes a hand through his hair. “I…no, not really. I know I said I would, but I’ve been so distracted.”

“The same kind of distracted you’ve been feeling?”

“No, not that kind of distracted. More distracted because…well, I guess that’s more for when Sonny gets here.”

“Oh? And when should that be?”

“I told him to come 20 minutes later. So we’ve still got,” Rafael glances at the wall clock “ten minutes.”

“Seems we do. How are things going with Sonny? You mentioned last time that you were worried you weren’t connecting well enough with him.”

“Uh…” _Did I? When did I say that?_ “I mean, it’s been getting better. Last week after my session we had a heart to heart, got some things out in the open. But, like I said, we’ll talk about that when he gets here.”

“You’re sure you want to wait? You don’t even want to give me a preface?”

“Not really. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”

Rafael knows he shouldn’t bide his time this way. With the amount of money he pays for these sessions, he shouldn’t let their time lapse into silence. But he does anyway, playing it off as thinking or wondering, until there’s a knock on their door. The doctor answers it, and Sonny shakes the man’s hand before going to Rafael’s side. Sonny presses a kiss to Rafael’s cheek, then sits/

“So, tell me Sonny, what brings you in today?” The doctor asks, crossing his legs and looking at them both with a light suspicion.

“Uh,” Sonny looks at Rafael. “Did you tell him?”

“No, no I was waiting until you got here.”

“Ah, okay, a’right.” Sonny nods, then looks at the doctor. “Well, it’s just that we’ve got some questions for you, y’know?”

“I think I’m pretty good with questions.”

Sonny nods to that and thinks for a few moments. He’s actually thinking, not just playing for time. “I guess…the question for us is, like… Change is a good thing, right? But how much change is too much change?”

“How do you mean?” The doctor looks between the two of them, the suspicion growing.

“Like…” Sonny looks at Rafael to see if he wants to talk, but he doesn’t. “Okay, so, we had a conversation about the kind of stuff that we think that needs to change.” Sonny pulls a sheet from a yellow legal pad out of his jacket pocket and unfurls it, handing it to the doctor. He looks it over, his face inscrutable from the way his hand covers half of it..

“Uh huh…this is quite a lot of changes you have listed here. I don’t see your relationship on here.”

“No…no you shouldn’t.” Rafael says, his brow crinkling.

“Is making these changes the difference between you staying together or breaking up?”

“No, no, no.” Both men say over one another, eyes widening. Sonny waves his hands, like he’s trying to rub the idea of them breaking up out of the air. Dr. Lindstrom holds up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, alright then. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to provoke such a reaction. I’m just trying to figure out what the stakes of this list are. What is this list the difference between?”

“It’s the difference between living and…being depressed.” Rafael explains.

“Uh huh…” the doctor prompts.

“It’s the difference between moving forward and staying stuck in that really toxic time, y’know?” Sonny picks up. “Between the two of us, these were the things that we feel like are holding us back. The things that had us…yeah, stuck is the right word.”

“And the things holding you back include your jobs, your home, your…I’m sorry, what’s this word?” The doctor holds the list out to Sonny. Sonny peers at the word written in his messy scrawl.

“Oh, wardrobe. Yeah, that meant clothes. Like, the clothes we wore during everything that happened.”

“Right, of course. That makes sense. Still, these are some rather seismic changes you have written here. Are these things you two have considered at length?”

“I’d say so, right Rafe?”

“Yes, I would agree with that. This list was, at first, just a way to get things down. But the longer we looked at it the more we agreed we needed change.”

“And this is mutual? These are changes you both need?”

“Yes, absolutely, 100%,” Sonny says. “Readjusting…everything is so different now. But, hey, c’man, how could it not be, right? You almost die, or you watch someone almost die…you get a glimpse of how drastically your life could change…forces you to think. And you realize there’s some stuff you just need to get out of.”

“And you agree with that, Rafael?”

“I do. And I was worried to say I needed change, but Sonny…well you know how supportive he’s been through all of this.” Rafael reaches over and takes Sonny’s hand. Sonny smiles, and Rafael takes a deep breath as they share a look.

“We gotta get through this. And, like, we owe it to each other to see this through, make sure we’re not miserable. Don’t we?”

“Of course we do.”

The smile on Sonny’s face warms Rafael’s belly, and so does the squeeze he gives Rafael’s hand. He only breaks their moment to look at the doctor. “So, what do you say Doc, can we start makin’ some of these changes?”

“Well…I would say that it’s a good sign if you two are in agreement on the changes that need to be made. But I’ll always advise against making drastic changes in rapid succession. Just take things one step at a time.”

Rafael remembers, very suddenly, their house in Puerto Rico. He remembers Sonny’s hand, locked around his waist as they walked toward the bathroom. Rafael remembers looking for the strength to cling onto Sonny but coming up empty. Rafael remembers being numb and afraid at the same time. Rafael remembers the gentleness of Sonny’s voice, urging him on, reminding him that he was indeed still alive.

One step at a time. With Sonny by his side, it seems possible.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...wow...took a whole extra week, but here it is! Sorry this took so long guys, I've been in a writing slump since the semester ended. I swear though, I am finishing this damn story before I go back to school. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Not as action packed as earlier ones, but more meditative. More contemplative. I found it very interesting to write, anyway.


End file.
